Only Human
by JabberjayHeart
Summary: "On the Hundred and Fiftieth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that the years will not clear their sins, and they will forever be criminals to the Capitol, the two tributes will be reaped from pools of children with criminal convictions to their name." Welcome to the 150th Hunger Games!
1. Scars Part One

**Scars by Papa Roach.**

* * *

**Scars Part One.**

_And our scars remind us that the past is real. I tear my heart open just to feel._

* * *

**Only Human - The 150th Hunger Games.**

**Chiffon Poiter, District Eight Victor.**

* * *

The house feels empty without them all.

It's good, though, and sometimes, it's bad. Everything feels like it has happened in this house. Ones that both shaped and broke the people I call my family.

The first night Velvet returned and broke down in the middle of the room, and the sleepless night where I cradled her crying body, rocking her back and forth. The silence as we went years losing tribute after tribute, reliving our own painful memories.

The sheer joy at saving Darek, only for it to be clouded by Velvet's illness sparking back up.

The constant sight of Pippin at the house, youthful and spirited, right up until he, too, entered the arena and returned a broken boy. The first day that he was whisked away by the Capitol and returned with bruises and electrocution burns. The fury in Darek's eyes. The anguish in Velvet's eyes. The sorrow in my own.

Darek fixing Pippin as best as he could. Mending ourselves together, as a unit. Looking after Velvet and getting her medication. When Darek's house flooded, and he moved in with Pippin whilst it got fixed. Sunshine and happiness in the brief moments between the Hunger Games. Me and Darek taking the mentoring to spare Velvet and Pippin anymore pain.

Seeing Tweed return. On the same night, when his abusive parents arrived, broke down my door and beat Tweed senseless, and everyone rallied around him like a protective flock of birds. As Velvet held his bruised body and screeched as Darek backed his Father away, receiving a black eye in the process, and me getting a good smack in Mrs Rayon's ungrateful face.

Over time, where Tweed felt more comfortable with us, even if he psychologically chose to distance himself from us.

Darek's message of hope. The place where the rebellion idea was crafted.

Where Pippin agreed, even though Darek was against it.

Where I promised to protect my family.

Because even if I couldn't have children - couldn't be a Mother when I couldn't promise that child a future in a corrupted world - I would always, always protect my own. And Velvet, Darek, Pippin and Tweed are my own.

I would die for my family.

* * *

"Nicolet has some interesting news," Darek muses, sitting down onto my couch. I hum, stretching my creaking bones. "She says that Esmeralda has had her own death sentence handed to her. A month, they reckon."

I hum, holding back the smile. "Nicolet's source is truly wonderful."

"I'd love to know who he is," Darek laughs. "He'd be a great asset to our side."

Despite age capturing us all, it's like we're still young. Ignoring the wrinkles and aging bodies, everyone acts the same, through the pain and happiness, mixed together to forever trap us in a time where we were both victims and murderers.

Velvet creeps through the door, long, blonde hair masking her face. "Morning," she mumbles, taking small strides to the kitchen.

"I've made coffee," I answer. Then Darek gives me that look, and I scowl. "I may be old, but I'm not useless, so stop looking at me like I'm a vulnerable, little old lady."

"You're turning eighty next year," Darek reminds me. "You need to slow down and..." he trails off, the obvious reminder that I'll soon be dead. Honestly, I do wonder where he gets his remarkable charisma from.

"And rest. I do know, dear," I smile sadly. "I haven't got much time left."

I'm pretty lucky compared to many of the people I grew up with. Many younger than me have died of illness or been cripped by disease. Somehow, these old bones have kept me upright and as fit as a fiddle. Darek doesn't understand that, though. He assumes that each year makes me more vulnerable and weak. Sadly, I have to remind him that I'm the same as him, a Victor above all else, a constant victim and sign of death.

And age will never change that. Never.

After an awkward round of silence - and as Velvet retreats into the study - Darek smiles coyly. "We should act soon."

"It'd be wise whilst she's in her state," I nod along. She's finally going to perish with the rest of us. "Do you even know what's wrong?"

"Brain tumor," Darek smirks. "The irony in that, right?"

"You shouldn't talk so loosely about death," I reply, even though it's on my own mind and I'm a hypocrite, but Darek doesn't need to know that. "It doesn't matter who she is. Illness isn't a light subject."

Darek shakes his head. "Sorry. But either way, we should act when we're in the Capitol."

"And everyone agrees?"

"I'll get the message to them through Harley," Darek answers. Harley, our corrupt Peacekeeper who, against all odds, is our messenger between districts.

"Including the Careers?" I turn my voice lower.

Darek only proceeds to nod. "Aphrodite, Carnelian, Ajax, Amity and Gemini," he reaffirms. "They're all on board, as are the rest. Even Crispin has agreed, as long as we keep Saskia out of it."

"Very well," I smile ruefully. "Let the true Hunger Games commence."

* * *

Four days later, the message has hit everyone. Harley passes along the confirmation from each of them, and before we know it, we have at least a person in every district, two in the majority.

The plan is set in motion.

* * *

As Harley hands over the last letter, Darek grins, turning to Pippin. "You hear that? Serena's message has arrived. That's everyone."

"...great." Pippin smiles tiredly.

"No-one suspects a thing," Harley confirms in his rough, raspy voice. "I guess this means it's over for me, right?"

"You've done us proud," I smile at the man underneath the visor. "I promise that your family will see the benefit of your dedication to our cause.

Harley removes his visor, revealing that kind, unearthed smile that he's famous for. "Thank you, Chiffon... I wish it wasn't like this at all... you guys don't deserve it..."

We all know that. After so many years, you learn to live with the outlandish, pitiful looks and words of both sadness and gratitude.

"Hopefully, after this, no-one else will suffer." Darek beams, turning back towards my house. Pippin takes me by the elbow and leads me after them. If everything works out, then nobody will. And the many doting Mothers out there - both soon-to-be and current - can breathe, knowing their child is safe and sound from here on out.

* * *

Two weeks pass, and the Quell announcement draws closer and closer, only a day away.

As the night approaches - and Darek hasn't returned all day - my heart hiccups in my chest as I sit down into the seat, still clutching the letter.

"They'll be no ball this year?" Pippin sounds incredulous, but there's a tone of happiness underneath.

"I guess not," I shrug, my bones creaking once more. My breathing come out strained. "I've never known for it not to happen. It's a tradition."

I can feel it in my gut. It churns and somersaults, instincts that have never failed me in the past. Every time it happens, something strikes. Something terrible.

It's then that Darek enters the room, completely pale, bar the violent, purple bruise on his jaw. "...something isn't right..."

My heart hammers even more. "What isn't right?"

Darek looks up, eyes on the verge of tears. "...Harley...he was executed..."

The world slows down, time halting in the presence of us all. Pippin falls pale against the seat. I lean forward, confused and torn, but something keeps me in my seat.

The overwhelming sickness.

"Darek..." I whisper, just as my front door is ripped off of the hinges, and a barrage of Peacekeepers storm in.

Shouting and screaming hits the air. Darek struggles and fights against one of them, but he's quickly whipped across the face, forced onto the ground. I move as fast as my old bones will carry me, but another one hooks me by the elbow, slamming me into the nearby wall. My head snaps against the brick, turning my vision dark, but not before I see them haul Pippin out of the chair, kicking and screaming and fighting with all of his might.

"Pippin Halland, I am arresting you under the conspiracy of terrorism against the state of Panem." A Peacekeeper chants, pushing Pippin's smaller body into another Peacekeeper, who proceeds to smack the heel of his gun against his skull. Pippin crumples, voice crying out for help.

I briefly hear Tweed shouting and Velvet shrieking, but it's lost to the overwhelming maternal instincts that I've always carried with me.

"It was me!" I shout, words breaking through my lips. "I was the one conspiring against her! It was me, not Pippin!"

The Peacekeeper turns. "Are you pleading your own guilt to it?"

I swallow, freeing myself from the brutal man holding me against the wall. "Yes," I growl, seeing Pippin look at me with his misty eyes. "I am pleading guilt. You leave them alone this instant, and take me instead."

The Peacekeeper concedes. "Take her away!"

Rough hands grab me again, shoving me out of my house. Darek shouts and Pippin cries and Tweed argues and Velvet screams as the cold air bites my brittle skin, feet being dragged along the cobblestones.

My home, where so many memories were crafted, falls into the distance as I'm pushed into the vehicle.

Deep down, I know I won't return to it.

* * *

It doesn't take long for them to believe me.

After telling the truth - from plans to conspire and murder the President, to gaining Harley's trust to help us out in our plans for reconnaissance - they finally force me into a cell. The cold, iron bars are a strange sense of comfort, one that reminds me that I've spared Pippin from another round of painful torture.

I drift in and out of sleep for what feels like most of the night. It's only when I hear footsteps and wheels that I perk up, curious.

"Chiffon Poiter,"

I tense, forcing myself up off the floor. "Madame President," I answer politely, but it comes out more cold than anticipated.

Her strange, sadistic smile is bright in the dense room. "You saved him."

I tighten even more. "I did nothing of the sort. I admitted my own guilt."

"Please don't mock my intelligence, Miss Poiter," Esmeralda coos. "Age might not have been kind to either of us, but we both know that you simply protected Pippin. You couldn't have orchestrated an elaborate plot."

"And you believe Pippin did?" I snort. "You obviously don't know the boy well enough, considering how times you've no doubt locked him in this here cell."

"I know that, underneath his innocence, charm and fragility, Pippin is what I like to call an 'Unintentional Rebel'. He might not realise it, but he has the making of a strong symbol, one that people would easily adore and follow," Esmeralda continues. "You see, when he tried to commit suicide and deem no Victor, he lit the match that would forever be the fire he plays with. Everything he does only makes it worse. This is no exception."

I walk towards her slowly. "I told you, it was me. You leave Pippin out of this." I warn her lowly.

"You don't scare me,"

"And you don't scare me," I laugh ruefully. "I don't have many years left. I fear nothing after what your Father made me go through."

"That's what I like to hear," Esmeralda nods. "Fine. If that's the way we are playing it, then so be it. You have one last chance to name every single conspirator."

I grit my teeth. For my family. For Velvet, Darek, Pippin, and Tweed. For the people that made me love and learn and age in the comfort of having someone, rather than no-one.

"Never." I whisper.

Esmeralda smiles. "Very well then. You're so determined to die for your rebel allies? Then so be it."

Before I know it, the door opens, and a burly Peacekeeper comes charging in, a needle poised in his hand. I try to fight him, but I'm easily overwhelmed and trapped, as the needle sinks into my arm, and turns everything dark.

* * *

The cold cement is harsh underneath my bare feet. My eyelids flutter as I try and adjust, but whatever they did, it's made me nothing short of woosy. That's when I realise that there is a sack over my head.

The Peacekeepers continue to drag me, never easing up. I try and squirm to free myself, but it's hopeless, and their grip only tightens.

"You're about to see what happens to traitors," One of them laughs.

"She won't live to tell the tale anyway," The other responds.

My heart picks up in my chest, beating harder and harder. Slowly, my ears pick up on the noise, slow-building clapping and cheering that only increases as I near it. Then, it finally dawns on me.

The Quell announcement.

My feet hit some steps and the cheering echoes in response. I struggle to regain my footing, still being dragged completely blind.

I'm on the stage.

I let out a short cry and try to fight it again, desperate and pitiful, but I'm pushed up onto something, like a large box, and my limbs lock into place. The cheering softens until everything is deadly silent.

A microphone is tapped twice.

"No," I cry, but my throat is tight, and the poison or whatever is still making everything feel too heavy to focus on.

"Every year, two tributes from our twelve districts hand over their lives for the sake of society," Esmeralda's raspy voice speaks. "They fight and compete for the right to survive, for the sake of fame and fortune. Every year, we fall in love and feel the same pain as the families do when our favourite tributes die. This year will be no exception. This year will be our seventh Quarter Quell!"

The crowd bursts into hysteria.

Esmeralda lightly laughs, cruel and unforgiving. "And, as you can see, I have some special guests with us to celebrate the announcement."

Guests? Plural? My heart quickens. _Not them! Please, not my family!_

The bag is suddenly ripped from my face. The harsh light is momentary, before everything begins to make sense. The Capitol citizens seem in awe, pointing and jeering. I turn my head to the side, and I don't know whether to sigh in relief, or cry in knowing that everything has fallen apart.

Zeke Wallace stands by my side, eyes blown wide. My eyes fall down to the rope attached to his neck, and my heart pauses in my chest. Past him, Amity Argo and Mako Twittle wear stoic expressions. I turn to my other side, frantic, meeting Maple Palmer and Lorcan Trump, the latter seemingly high.

"These Victors, the same ones that we loved and adored, spent our money on and prayed to win... have all become traitors to our great nation," Esmeralda's voice turns harsh. The cheering turns into booing and jeering, the mass faces of angry civilians who follow the pack. "And I could only find it fitting for this to happen on this day."

In the silence, Lorcan laughs abruptly. His bouncy smile turns into a scowl almost instantly. "Fuck you all!" Lorcan screams, spitting at the nearest Capitolites. "I hope you all fucking die! You bunch of monsters! Fuck you! Fuck you all!"

Maple, on the other side on him, smirks. "He couldn't have said it better. Fuck you all."

A confused, tearful smile spreads on my face. We all stand together, despite our different homes, backgrounds, and goals.

We stand to fight against the people that have made us.

"Colourful," Esmeralda coos. She holds the paper up, smiling behind it. "On the Hundred and Fiftieth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that the years will not clear their sins, and they will forever be criminals to the Capitol, the two tributes will be reaped from pools of children with criminal convictions to their name."

The crowd erupts into cheers. Lorcan proceeds to swear and curse, but his voice is lost to the overpowering sensation of hate against us. Esmeralda wheels herself around to a podium, one that contains a button.

She slams his fist into it.

Mako shouts, just as his box disappears, and the rope snaps his neck. Everyone tenses up, visibly afraid, and my heart slams into my chest until I feel sick. Amity tenses as the button is hit again, and her body falls briefly, head whiplashed to the side like Mako.

"Fuck you all!" Lorcan screams, as the bloodcurdling snap beckons in my ears, and Maple swings like an abandoned marionette. "Fuck you all! Fuck you all!" Lorcan chants, as the button swiftly takes his box away, and his body pitches with a muted thud. Lorcan goes limp, eyes lifeless and staring at me. My heart quickens. Zeke whimpers, struggling in his confinement, but when I look at him, and he looks at me, a quiet strength emerges as the button is pressed and I close my eyes, unable to look.

Surrounded by five deceased Victors is me, alone.

I stare straight at the nearest camera, seeing my tearful smile and kind eyes reflected back at me.

"I love you," I whisper to them all, tears streaming down my face, as the button is pressed, hot fire erupts around my throat, and everything turns black.

I would die my family.

And I'd do it again if it means their safety, their future.

* * *

**So, we're here. This is the eighth and _final_ instalment to the EsmeraldaVerse. And this is more than likely my last story, or at least SYOT (I don't entirely know yet, so shh). If you're not familiar by now, then I guess it's too late for you...but my other stories are there and the Collection of the Damned is pretty much the summary to all that is Snow.**

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**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

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**Open Submissions. It is not first come, first serve.**

**As per usual, the form is on my profile for submission through PM. Please read the rules there, too. If you don't want to read them, then don't bother to submit at all. It's crucial for them to be understood. I'll also note how many submissions I get.**

**I'll say this here, though: I _do not_ want a bunch of murderers, psychopaths, serial killers etc. They are not good. They are hideous, boring, and make both the author and the submitter look entirely ridiculous. So, yes. If I see it (without creativity and good reason), I will seek you out and destroy you (or simply ignore your form entirely).**

**As always, a review is appreciated. ;)**


	2. Scars Part Two

**Scars by Papa Roach.**

* * *

**Scars Part Two.**

_And our scars remind us that the past is real. I tear my heart open just to feel._

* * *

**Only Human - The 150th Hunger Games.**

**Saskia Rossum, District Twelve Victor.**

* * *

"It's just not safe," Crispin warns, standing at the door. "I won't be long. I'll be back before you know it."

"You and I both know that won't be true," I whisper. No-one is safe anymore.

Crispin sighs. "Saskia, it's... it's just not safe for you."

"I have to go, though. I have to... for the others..." I lie.

Unlike the other districts, we wasn't hit that hard with the deaths. Crispin's never been particularly close to anyone, choosing to stay by himself. The only person I really interact with is Pippin, and that's why I need to go. Once upon a time, he saved me from myself, from my mind. This is my chance to be there for him.

"Please," I whisper again. "Crispin... I have to."

Crispin's face falters. "Is this about Pippin?"

"I owe him," I quickly answer, voice too high. "He's probably torn apart and... and he saved me many, many years ago, and I... I have to be there for him...!"

My words seem to strike a chord in Crispin. Slowly but surely, his strength crumbles and he concedes. "But you stay by me. It might get dangerous. We don't even know what will happen."

I nod curtly. I don't know what will happen, but I need to risk it. If not for Pippin, then for myself. We can make a difference. Together, united.

I can't hide myself away forever.

* * *

The car whisks me and Crispin through District Twelve, straight to the train station. Being a Victor, we have instant access to the Capitol when we like. We don't even need a reason. Crispin talks quietly to the man at the platform, and silently, we board the very last carriage.

The journey flies by, trees blurring under the muted moonlight.

I lean against the cool glass. Each time I think about what happened, my chest bursts into butterflies, making me sick and dizzy. It was so cruel, so barbaric. One by one, she hung them. Their bodies just dropped and their necks snapped and... and I just watched the screen silently, as Crispin paced the room like a caged animal desperate to escape.

And that's when he mentioned about the rebellion. The one that nobody involved me in, because really, what use am I?

Amity, Zeke, Lorcan, Maple, Chiffon, Mako... they were all apart of it, or at least involved. It didn't take long for Crispin to spill the words out of fear. Apparently, only Mako wasn't involved, and Crispin assumed it was to spare Gypsy.

I didn't understand it, at first. I was confused and I was crying and nothing made sense. Then, it slowly peeled apart, and I realised that Crispin's fear was because of us, because of his involvement. And I just knew from then that I had to, as well.

I had to.

* * *

The train grinds to a halt.

"We're here," Crispin mumbles, rising. He pushes the door open and checks the area, before stepping out of the carriage. I wait until he says my name, before I follow him. Down the quiet streets of the Capitol, Crispin leads me to an apartment block, one that towers over the buildings surrounding it. The moon glows eerily across the street.

We climb up the steps in silence. My heart races in my chest. Each step makes me feel sick and scared, but I move forward, digging for the fire that I know I have. Crispin pauses, and taps a door three times.

"Crispin," Nicolet Aryth's voice beckons from the other side of the door. As it opens, her mouth falls open. "And Saskia. Wow. I didn't think you had it in you."

"She insisted," Crispin smiles faintly.

"We need all the help we can get," Nicolet replies, stepping aside. "Come on in, we're having a right party in here."

Inside the room, my heart flutters, my steps quiet as I fall behind Crispin's more stern ones. That's when I notice who is there, who is actually present, who is a member of the hidden rebellion.

My eyes find Pippin first, mournful eyes locked on the floor and never looking up. Darek is by his side, silent, and Topher is on the other side, muttering quietly as Nicolet takes her seat once more. Aston is there, too, staring at the paper in the middle of the room, torn between crying and screaming, it seems.

My heart races even more. Without knowing it, I slip my hand into Crispin's, and he leads me into a seat on the side. Ellery glances in my direction. "Oh," she mouths.

I stare at her with wide eyes. "Pardon?"

"I said oh," Ellery confirms. "Nobody expected you two to arrive."

"Well, we did," Crispin frowns, falling next to me. Past Ellery is Arjan, sadly smiling at the group, as if he doesn't know what to say or do. Serena is lost in thought, whispering to herself, whilst Gypsy has her arms crossed, counting aloud.

On the outskirts, though, is the most surprising of all. Carnelian, Aphrodite, Ajax and Gemini are grouped together, talking amongst themselves. It's almost like they expected to be isolated by everyone else.

Darek steps forward. In the light, you can see the bright bruise that covers nearly half of his face. "I see everyone is here," he begins quietly, voice hushed.

Nobody answers him.

"I... I have no idea what to say or do," Darek admits, smiling sadly. "...Chiffon was always my answer to everything..."

Pippin looks up. Those bright, shiny eyes of his meets mine, and he smiles sadly. I instantly smile back, fighting the urge to sweep across the room and embrace him. All those years ago, he never realised how much he helped. That little bit of information basically saved me from the brink of suicide. He doesn't know it, but I owe him everything.

"I'll fucking kill her!" Spruce's voice booms across the room. That's when I notice him, on his own, submerged in the shadows of the room. "I'll strange her with my bare hands!"

"Let's not get overemotional over this," Ellery cuts in, rather cold.

"What are you even doing here?" Spruce spits. "You're as bad as her!"

"She killed Zeke," Ellery snarls. "I have every right to be here as you do, moron..."

Arjan steps forward. "Let's not argue..."

"No, this is good," Nicolet nods. "If we get angry, maybe we can actually do something that'll avenge their deaths. Our plan has basically fallen apart now, seeing as they know."

"We don't know that," Darek frowns. "We... we don't know that they know."

"They were executed on grounds on terrorism. I think they know about us," Crispin's wavering voice joins the lines. I sink deeper and deeper into my chair. Maybe I was wrong, maybe this wasn't for me.

Darek turns to the Careers. "Did Amity... did she get arrested on the same grounds?"

"Yeah," Ajax answers quietly. "They only went for her, though, and not me."

"See? That doesn't mean they really know," Darek smiles sadly. "We still have a chance. I mean, if they didn't arrest us all, then maybe there's hope? Why would they just pick six of us, when there's all of us that can carry it on?"

"Maybe it was to weaken us, you know, like kill our spirits and hopes? Esmeralda loves to do that," Topher suggests.

"Or she's playing one of her fantastic fucking games," Ellery snorts.

"We can't let it get to us," Arjan steps forward, a voice of reason once more. "We need to show them that... that although we're sad, it doesn't stop us. We have a chance to save the future generation. We have to take it!"

Nicolet rises from her seat. "Arjan is right! We have the chance here, and I doubt that Amity, Chiffon, Zeke, Lorcan, Maple or Mako would want us to waste it, right?"

Darek nods along and steps towards the paper. "Precisely. We... we know that she has a month left to live, and when she dies, Nicolet has mentioned that Theodore is taking over?"

"Yeah, he mentioned it to me," Nicolet nods. "Yes, he's been my source. You'd be surprised about how much he hates his Mother," she laughs lightly. "But yeah. He's taking over. He doesn't know it yet, but we have to strike when she dies, whilst he's at his weakest."

"Seems cruel," I whisper.

"Seems fair," Ellery points out. "She murders children, and he's an extension of her eggs, so why doesn't he get the same punishment?"

"So we agree, we strike just after she dies?"

Sadly, we have to wait until the Quell is over, and even then, we have mentoring duties. I sit up slightly. "What... what about mentoring?" I ask quietly, and it's like everyone falls silent, staring at me, eyes trying to bore into my skull.

"We're the mentors then," Darek points out. "It gives us a reason to be in the Capitol, right? We'll get past the security guards easily then. So, we all mentor, okay? And, if everything goes well, we'll stop the Hunger Games for good. For the future generation. For the deceased. For the mentors we've loved and lost that gave their lives to ensure we make a difference."

No-one argues with that. It's a guaranteed for some of us to always mentor. I sink back into my seat, feeling the comfort in being unnoticed. Even across the room, Pippin is absorbed in his own sadness, and whilst I thought I could save him, I don't know if I'm truly what he needs at the moment. When Darek places that hand back on his shoulder, Pippin looks at him with such love and need, I can't help but smile: Pippin deserves a little happiness.

I rise abruptly. "We can do it," I smile at everyone in the room. It's like a weight is lifted from my chest and I can breathe - truly breathe - for the first time in years. Tears prick at my eyes but I blink them away. "We'll do it." I whisper.

"Yeah, okay, sit back down now," Ellery rolls her eyes.

Spruce, however, abruptly stands and leaves, his hunched frame slamming the door. It doesn't deter the brief happiness that everyone has. For our deceased friends, for the ones that we called mentors and family, we won't be sad.

* * *

On the train home, Crispin is still nervous, timid against the window.

"We'll be okay," I say, a reversal of how the roles used to be, him saying comforting words to me. "The plan... it'll work... it has to."

"Nothing is set in stone," Crispin smiles sadly.

"But we have to at least try,"

"I know..."

I let out a shaky sigh. "If we die trying to make a difference, then isn't it worth it?"

Crispin smiles sadly. "I thought that too... at first."

"But... but you joined the rebellion..."

"To spare you," Crispin laughs dryly.

"...I don't always need protecting," I try and sound strong, but it ends up squeaky, betraying my nerves. I don't think I'll ever be okay alone. Crispin is slowly getting older. If he dies, I... I don't know what I'll do, all alone.

Crispin straightens his back. "You're right. You don't always need protecting. You may not realise it yet, but you've grown, Saskia. You might feel scared and alone, but you've blossomed into someone who takes risks and actions. I... I just needed to try and save you."

"Why?" I frown.

"Because you're the only tribute I've ever saved," Crispin laughs, a tear sliding down his cheek. "I've watched dozens die. Some hopeless, some extraordinary. But you... you won, and saved me from being alone and not feel so worthless, and I wanted to ensure that you never feel like that... if the rebellion worked, well, you wouldn't have to go through what I did all those years..."

"Crispin..."

"I'm dying, Saskia," Crispin smiles sadly. "I don't have long... I never wanted to tell you, but I couldn't bring myself to do nothing... so when Darek asked me, I joined the rebellion in your place, knowing that I'll die eventually, and with that, I can spare many children from dying and I can also save you from a life of isolation... I've never been good at anything else. With this, I could finally do something worthwhile."

I realise I'm crying, reflected in Crispin's sad laugh. I wipe away at the tears, feeling the hole grow within my chest. It's like my whole world is both crashing and rising at the same time, and I don't know which way I want it to fall.

"Thank you..." I whisper.

"Don't thank me yet," Crispin squeezes my hand across the table. "We still have a long way to go."

That brings a smile to my face. "For the future."

Crispin laughs. "For the future."

* * *

**Expect the reapings between seven-ten days, and hopefully, one update a week should go to plan to get through pre-Games a lot quicker! Whichever day I update will be the weekly date.**

**Here, however, are your wonderful tributes for this story and underneath, information and such, like the blog and everything.**

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**List Of Tributes.**

**District One - Luxury.**

Male: Clarent Tarbeck, 18.

Female: Cadence Halsey, 18.

**District Two - Masonry.**

Male: Ares Baskaus, 18.

Female: Kaitlin Garrett, 16.

**District Three - Technology.**

Male: Lanuel Nox, 17.

Female: Farryn Lore, 15.

**District Four - Fishing.**

Male: Douglas Orsett, 18.

Female: Evangeline Marlowe, 17.

**District Five - Power.**

Male: Jayce Kenton, 18.

Female: Arden Novelle, 16.

**District Six - Transportation.**

Male: Vectus Perrault, 18.

Female: Inari Wilder, 17.

**District Seven - Lumber.**

Male: Keaton Malloy, 18.

Female: Astrid Caverly, 16.

**District Eight - Textiles.**

Male: Soren Chandtara, 16.

Female: Valera Saffel, 17.

**District Nine - Grain.**

Male: Silas Torrell, 15.

Female: Enora Ardley, 18.

**District Ten - Livestock.**

Male: Daithi Sheahan, 15.

Female: Zora Hudgens, 14.

**District Eleven - Agriculture.**

Male: Levitt Tithe, 18.

Female: Asha Mazuike, 17.

**District Twelve - Coal.**

Male: Nicholas Carson, 17.

Female: Avril Benton, 18.

* * *

**The blog for this story is_ onlyhuman hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

* * *

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

**_Who are your favourite tributes from just a simple, first impression look at the blog? As in biased, judged impressions?_**

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**When you look at this list, you'll realise that your tribute probably had their age altered. It was nothing personal. When I made the list, I realised that I only had two tributes under sixteen-years-old, and my insides just went crazy. So, I moved some around. Nothing major. I just didn't tell anyone because it was too late. Same with pictures, but I would've told you that...**

**Anywaaay. If your tribute isn't up there, then unfortunately, they didn't make it. Nothing personal. No hard feelings. With sixty submissions, I had a lot handed to me, and a lot had to be turned away. I'll begin the apologetic messages shortly.**

**Besides all that, welcome to Only Human! **


	3. Come Home

**Come Home by OneRepublic.**

* * *

**Come Home.**

_Hello World, hope you're listening. Forgive me if I'm young, for speaking out of turn._

* * *

**Carnelian Ritter, District One Male.**  
**One Hundred and Twenty Fifth Victor.**

* * *

The proud students stand in an orderly row, looking up at the balcony. I can only stare back, seeing myself reflected in each eager, hopeful set of eyes.

They're waiting to be chosen. Waiting to be told that they are the one, that their skills trumps the rest. With the Quarter Quell editing things once more, Varsity has left the decision until the last possible minute.

"I still don't know who to choose!" Varsity complains behind me, his voice loud enough for all of the students to hear and whisper about. I spin around, confronted by the sight of an exasperated Varsity being comforted by Amethyst, of all people.

"What is actually wrong?" I ask, stepping away from the balcony.

"They're all too good!" Varsity whines again. "Aphrodite wouldn't help me, and I didn't know who else to ask about it... I can't do this on my own!"

"Here," I take the files from his hand, quickly scanning the four names.

Clarent Tarbeck's aptitude test has shown domineering, controlling traits. He has a reasonable set of skills, too, but they lack in actual practice. Arrow Brazier, on the other hand, shows promising skills but an isolation problem.

"Clarent Tarbeck," I smile, handing the file back to him. "He'll blend better with a team, if he claims leadership, of course."

Romany Beauregard shows a strict, controlled upbringing that has meant she's precise and meticulous. However, she shows signs of increasing paranoia, stifled by her need for precision. Cadence Halsey, on the other hand, is the opposite. She's reckless, moving with the flow of things.

"And Cadence Halsey," I also suggest. "She'll show some spontanity."

"Thank you, Carnelian," Varsity sighs.

I smile as he walks past me, addressing the students below. I don't bother to look, knowing that either Clarent or Cadence is mine. Instead, I look at Amethyst, who smiles softly. A large cheer resounds around the Academy, whereas the second one is a solemn clap.

Varsity commands the students to head on out for the Reaping. He walks past us briskly, head held high. "Where are you going?" Amethyst inquires quietly.

"To find Aphrodite," Varsity grumbles. "She needs to give me an answer for the ignorance over the last few weeks! Carnelian, outside. Niobe is in the Capitol, but I'm sure that you can handle it all on your own."

"Of course," I smile, as the door slams shut. Amethyst sighs quietly, turning to face me. "What's wrong, Amethyst?"

"Aphrodite... where is she?"

My body stiffens. "I can't tell you," I whisper. "It's better that you don't know."

"Maybe you're right," Amethyst smiles. "Just... be careful, please?"

I give her a light hug and peck on the cheek, coming back with a grin. "I always am."

With that, I leave her to her work, abandoning the Academy behind me. The sun scorches me as I walk the short journey to the Square, passing young children who wave with bright smiles, and elderly couples who give me an approving nod. None of them seem to realise the hidden toll that the Hunger Games scars people with.

Amethyst is unhappy under her smile. Aphrodite longs for change. Onyx wants to be different.

I wish for a better future.

As the Square comes into view, I mount the steps. Clarent is easily spotted, a tight smile on his lips. He even gives me a similar nod to the elderly people, relishing in being chosen.

Our escort Riva, however, gives me a disapproving look. "Where is Niobe? I was told she would be here and, alas, she is not."

"She's in the Capitol," I point out quietly.

"That's unfortunate," Riva pouts. "I much prefer her to you."

I smile the remark away, learning to bury hurt beneath the surface. I wait patiently for everything to begin, for when Riva claims that first slip. She doesn't bother to read the name. She holds it in the air and brings the microphone to her lips. "Male," she whispers.

Clarent doesn't come sprinting out. He walks with a certain grace, head held high. Amongst the others, he looks defined and controlled, much like his profile said. On the stage, he graciously takes the microphone from Riva.

"Clarent Tarbeck," he smiles, before handing it back.

Riva smiles, but doesn't bother to take the other slip. Cadence is already coming towards us.

_Clarent is strong and controlled, but his desire for that control could be his biggest flaw. Cadence's reckless will give her an advantage, but might also lead to annoyances in the alliance, or even worse, betrayal._

"Cadence Halsey," Cadence smiles, brushing away some hair from her eyes.

Clarent will be easier to tame. When Riva announces the end of it, the pair head for the Justice Building. I quickly follow, determined to catch them.

"Hey, guys," I call out, causing them to turn around. "Niobe isn't here, so it's just us. And I want to say this before she might counter it, but... I need something from the pair of you."

"Anything," Cadence speaks on their behalf, and I'm almost sure that I see a twinkle of annoyance in Clarent's eyes.

"I need you to work together, as a team," I sigh happily, eyeing the pair up. "It'll only work if you can place some trust in each other, or, at the very least, learn to respect each other. I've seen too many betrayals to know that it gets the person nowhere fast."

"Understood," Cadence beats Clarent to it again.

"Clarent?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Clarent raises an eyebrow.

"Brilliant," I nod, like a weight has been lifted off of my chest. "And make sure that Niobe doesn't let you think otherwise."

* * *

**Ajax Rogue, District Two Male.**  
**One Hundredth Victor.**

* * *

Everyone is completely quiet.

"We need to be strong," Tarzana addresses the room. "Amity was one of our own, and whilst it's positively disgusting she's being branded a traitor, we can't dwell on it. We have new volunteers to care for."

I feel bitterness every time that I hear her name. Amity. No-one is alive to understand. Those that would are already dead. Clifford, Maverick, even Brick. The newest Victors barely acknowledge an older lady like her. Or me, for that matter. She died with me as her only friend, and now I have to mourn alone.

Siryn scoffs. "She could've been a traitor. It's not like anyone knew her all that much."

"I knew her," I smile, tight-lipped.

"And was she a traitor?" Ravel asks.

"No," I completely lie. "She was not."

_It was her idea_, I have to remind myself. Amity wanted to be a rebel. She wanted to join them. I did it with her to ensure her safety, her promise. But the guilt has already planted itself within my mind, and it just won't disappear.

"We need to move past it," Tarzana suggests, before turning to me. "Ajax, you said that you wanted to mentor?"

I nod. "I did indeed."

"Jezabel will do it with you."

Jezabel slowly peels herself from Cadmus, standing up. "Come along, old man."

I smile mirthlessly at her words. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves," I smirk. "I might be old, but I'm far from elderly."

The clock on the wall chimes eerily. "It's time," Tarzana smiles. "Your volunteers are Ares Baskaus and Kaitlin Garrett. I'm sure you've read the profiles?"

"Not at all," Jezabel smiles dryly, passing Saffron who hands her a file. "But I'll do some light reading before we get there."

I rise from my chair, passing Ravel and Siryn on the way out. Jezabel saunters along the corridor, less spirited than normal. Slowly, I catch up to her, just at the doors. When Jezabel returned, she was pretty quiet and emotional. Cadmus brought her around slowly. Now, it's like she's fallen back into that pit.

"I hate mentoring," Jezabel whispers, voice dangerously low.

"Everyone does," I swallow thickly. "It's not the easiest job in Panem."

The doors open, light pouring through. As quick as a flash, Jezabel's lips peel into a toothy smile, just for the cameras. I follow her out of the door and across the stage, straight into our seats. I expect her to look at the portfolio that Saffron handed her, but she places it to the side, placing her hands in her lap.

The kids mill around, sliding into their areas. "Don't you want to read it?" I bite my lip.

"Don't tell Saffron, but I already know," Jezabel smiles softly. "Kaitlin is stony and reserved, but apparently, she's rather skilled. And, scandalous or not, Ares isn't... well... he's not as great as you might think."

Before I can say anymore, the escort pounces onto the stage. Gently, I cross my legs and sit straight, staring at the crowd. Due to the Quell, the original candidates didn't get chosen. Me and Jezabel haven't trained these ourselves. I should be surprised, but I'm only nervous.

I hate seeing my tribute die.

It's like another painful memory of Honor, of not being able to save her from the explosion.

Or, knowing that Lennox was never suited for the Games, and yet, he went in, won, returned, and burned himself alive because Evander prided himself on stable Victors, and Lennox's illness went untreated.

I swallow thickly as the escort takes the microphone.

"District Two! I hope everyone is excited with the Quell! Criminals? It feels like a crime to enjoy it so much!"

No-one really reacts. The eerie silence is swallowed by the microphone's static.

Jezabel laughs dryly. "Ouch."

I smile alone, but the knot in my stomach is too hard to move. Slowly, she takes a paper slip, and folds it open. "I suppose I'll start then... your female tribute this year is... Hermione-!"

A small, robust girl steps out of the fold. "I volunteer," she says quietly, walking to the stage with long strides. My eyes narrow on the girl as she mounts the stage. She doesn't even look old enough to make these life-changing decisions.

"And your name, sweetie?"

"Kaitlin Garrett," she replies, void of detectable emotion.

The escort smiles. "Lovely," she drawls, taking the male slip from the mass. "...your male tribute is Kirk L-!"

Once more, a silent boy steps apart from the crowd. His eyes are blown wide, frozen on the stage. His slender body is rigid, and for a couple of moments, he doesn't move. He just stares ahead. Finally, he moves forward. Climbing the steps slowly, he turns around, accepting the microphone.

"Ares Baskaus," he says quietly, unsure. "...and I volunteer."

The escort grabs both of their hands, yanking them into the air. "District Two... your tributes: Kaitlin and Ares!"

Kaitlin wears a mask of indifference. Ares looks conflicted.

But neither look truly happy.

* * *

**Pixel Merrin, District Three Female.**  
**One Hundred and Twenty Second Victor.**

* * *

"I don't like this," I whisper, staring at Arjan.

"Nobody really does," Arjan tries to crack a joke, but it's easily swallowed by the mournful expression he wears. "I miss her already..."

The gravestone stands amongst many others, but most notably, Mercury is next to Bolt. She would've wanted that. Secretly, I knew she loved him. The age difference didn't matter to her. I could see it in her eyes, the way she held herself together for him.

Arjan bends over, resting the bouquet of daisies on her grave. "Have you checked on Micro?"

"He'll be fine," I say quietly. "Micro is resilient. He's always relied on Mercury for everything, just because he doesn't realise that he's capable on his own."

"He took it hard."

"We all did," I smile sadly. "...Mercury was one of the greatest people I've ever known."

After a few more minutes of silent mourning, we leave the grave, full of empowered emotions. Like Micro, I've always depended on Mercury for advice. And I'd like to think that, by spending some time fawning over lost memories, that it'll empower me once more to do what is right for our tributes this year.

Through the alleyway and across the small, dandelion-dotted field is Victor's Village. Arjan freezes outside of Micro's home.

"Should I check on him again, before we go?"

"If you want," I nod. Arjan quickly flees up the stairs, seemingly opening Micro's door with a hitch. When he's gone, I stare around at the homes, ones that have seen people come and go forever.

More importantly, though, I see happy memories. Bolt's adopted children growing up and leaving home for themselves. Mercury writing a novel, and spending her spare time teaching homeless children to read and write properly. Micro's inventions flourishing.

"He's fine!" Arjan's voice comes bombing in.

I turn, smiling. "How is his latest invention?"

"It might've just exploded, I'm not sure," Arjan laughs. "Micro is covered from head-to-toe in grease and soot."

"But he's okay?"

"He's okay," Arjan nods. "He's not talking that much, but doing what he loves, keeping his mind occupied, that's good, right?"

"As long as he doesn't dwell on Mercury's untimely death, then he should be fine," I smile, walking down the path.

"At least we got to bury her," Arjan reminds me. "I heard from Solar that they haven't received Zeke's body. None of the executed Victors have been returned."

I nod along. "They'll want to use that against the others. Bargaining chips, perhaps, or even just a way to break and dissolve any alliances. Didn't you ever see a similarity in the six of them?"

"They were older," Arjan points out as we cross the grounds, heading for the Square. "Probably the oldest in each district."

"Like Mercury," I sigh. "Mercury was our beacon. To me, you, Micro. The others might've been the same. What a way to destroy morality and confidence than to steal the figurehead of every budding family."

"That's horrible," Arjan breathes.

"Sadly, it's probably true," I climb the steps, Arjan behind me. I gently sit down, folding my dress into the grooves of the chair. "Now, they could be suffering. It might open up any loopholes into this theory of a revolution."

The same one that Arjan is involved in. The one he has tried to hide from us all. It's not my place to control his actions... I just hope he either succeeds, or gets out before it explodes.

"Yeah, I suppose," Arjan trails off, ending our conversation. We fall into a state of comfortable silence, awaiting for Chimera to make her appearance.

When she does, she hits it hard. "Arjan!"

Arjan stiffens, yanked from his seat. "Chimera," he chokes, pulled into a gigantic hug from the gigantic woman. I laugh lightly, hiding by his side. Chimera pulls away, grinning wildly.

"I'm so glad that you're mentoring! I was afraid that you'd miss my last year as an escort!"

"You're retiring? You've only been doing it for a year," Arjan tries to hide his smirk.

"Yes, well, I need to do new things! I've had enough of the drool that is your district, no offence! And they just won't promote me to higher standards!"

Arjan laughs awkwardly, sitting back into his seat. "I can't see why not," he whispers.

Chimera's grin looks wicked, but her jolly appearance shows you shouldn't judge looks. "Let me get this over with, and we can have a nice, long catch-up on the train journey to the Capitol!"

As the rest of the kids pile in, Chimera grabs her first slip. "Lanuel Nox, you are the male tribute! Come on down!"

A small, clear circle appears, leaving a rather handsome boy in the middle. He blinks a few times, eyes locked on the stage. Steadily, he makes his way forward. His name, however, rings in my mind. _Where have I heard it before? It sounds so... familiar. _He makes it to the stage in one piece, without crying or showing any real astounding emotion. I focus in on his eyes, though, and see the developed fear behind them. He's just clever at hiding it.

"You're so pretty!" Chimera giggles, claiming another slip. "But, we need a female... Farryn Lore!"

"Oh," I whisper, seeing the small, frail girl as she makes her way to the stage, arms pressed tight around her stomach. Her sleek, brown hair masks the way her eyes seem to become glazed, almost surreal. On the stage, she shrinks besides Lanuel's more taller frame.

"I hate you both, you're so damn attractive!" Chimera grins.

Arjan, however, notices how stiff I feel, rigid almost.

"I'll take Farryn," he says quietly. "I... I can see what you're thinking."

_That she's me, basically? Small. Frail. Young. Scared... Hopeless._

"Thank you," I whisper, forcing myself to acknowledge Lanuel more. With a well-built frame and reasonable looks, he'll be a catch with sponsors. It all depends on his drive.

I shake my head. Arjan rises, claps for the tributes slowly, before he follows them into the Justice Building. I closely follow, accepting the outcome of it already.

I accepted it years ago, when I beat it.

Now I'm ready, I'm prepared, and I'll relive it.

* * *

**Nerissa Reilly, District Four Female.**  
**One Hundred and Forty Ninth Victor.**

* * *

The entire area is silent, void of a single resident. The overcast, grey sky hangs over everyone, the faint drift of the tide only adding to the ghoulish atmosphere.

It reminds me of my arena. The constant cold. The fog that clung to my shoulders as I moved, that muted the sound of my knives as I hurled them into the unknown. It's a twisted memory. One I look back on with fond memories, but also disappointment. It was far too easy. I wanted something complex, that'd push me to my limits, and instead, I basically got blind target practice.

"Here she comes," Mirth's voice snaps me from my mind. I look up as Odyessa appears, Octavian peeled to her side.

She stops at the bottom of the steps, staring up at the four of us.

"Can we help you?" Mirth taunts her.

Her steely eyes linger on Mirth's body. "You're really my least favourite."

"Glad to know that I stand out amongst the mass," Mirth replies, not missing a beat. I hold back my snort, but unable to hide my smile.

Odyessa looks at me next. "You can mentor, Nerissa."

"I'm honoured," I deadpan, looking over at Beck and Kendra, seeing which one I'll be working with.

"And you too, Kendra."

Kendra nods. "I can do that."

"Not that you can do much else," I whisper, but Mirth hears it, and he snorts as well.

"I just want to say that I'm proud of each of you, and what I've accomplished over the years," Odyessa begins her speech, one that makes me want to drill into my own skull. "When I opened Pier Academy against the others better judgement, I knew I'd bring back talented, murderous teens. You are all proof of that, considering none of you were stupid enough to join a fated rebellion."

Beck scoffs. "Gemini isn't exactly murderous."

"Gemini is hardly important," Odyessa shrugs, but Octavian looks tense at the words. Odyessa has never really treated Gemini fairly. From what I've seen, at least. She prizes herself on Victors that she trained. "Just remember, Panem is watching you, but more importantly, I'm watching you."

Odyessa moves past us with grace and poise, something she falsely puts on. Beck and Mirth rise from their seats, leaving us also. Mirth only manages an off-handed comment when the doors shut.

When I look at Kendra, I feel physically sick.

"Can I help you?"

"Doubt you could," I roll my eyes. Kendra seems to believe that she's something magnificent. Bewitching and alluring, when truly, she's nothing more than a pampered princess.

Neither of us share another word as children begin to pack up the pens. Winning last year, I know their feelings. The excitement and nerves. It's a rush of adrenaline rushing to that stage, determined to beat someone out of their own chance. District Four has a lot to live up to, considering my own achievements.

"I'll have the male," Kendra speaks eloquently, not even bothering to look my way.

I roll my eyes once more. "Slut," I whisper.

When the pens are full, Vicary appears, decked out in the same lilac clothing.

"District Four! Are we ready for an exciting Quell?!"

The older kids - wearing their trademark blazers - explode in a chorus of cheers and stamping feet. One of them will be my tribute. _Good luck to them_, I smirk, as Vicary claims the first slip from the male bowl.

He takes a deep breath, building up the anticipation. "I'm pleased to call for Fernando Cerily!"

A tall, athletic blonde comes sprinting out of his section. But there's a disturbance, and a taller, tanned boy with a head of thick, black hair comes running too. I lean up in my seat, interested, as the pair collide in the aisle. Their bodies crash, bringing them both to the floor. Neither even seem the third boy who slips through the pens, under the railing, and up the steps.

He swiftly grabs the microphone from Vicary, and runs a hand through dark curls. "Douglas Orsett, and I volunteer as tribute!"

The other two turn around, stunned, but Peacekeepers quickly hurry them back into their sections as Vicary takes the female slip.

A small, coy look at Kendra has me sick once more. She looks so smug about it.

Vicary takes the microphone again. "I'm pleased to call for Isla Dorfina!"

Unlike the boys, there is no chaos. A small, athletic girl comes charging for the front, having already slipped out of her pen before Vicary could finish his sentence.

I smile, looking at Kendra as the girl approaches the stage.

She snatches the microphone from Vicary, breathing heavily. "Evangeline Marlowe, and I volunteer...!"

She raises her hand in the air, met with complete bewilderment from the others.

Something tells me that she's not completely normal. Or sane, for that matter.

Kendra's smug smile appears once more. "Good luck, Nerissa."

I grit my teeth. "Yeah, and you, Kendra," I force out, my eyes locked on Evangeline's sprightly posture. _I'll probably need it_.

* * *

**Ellery Haynes, District Five Female.**  
**One Hundred and Twentieth Victor.**

* * *

The mundane lifestyle of District Five has never really suited me. I stare around at the rainy, damp streets, lined with unsuspecting children, huddled together under coats and blankets to stay dry.

When I move forward, so does Anneliese.

"Look, I know you can't talk, but you can hear, right?" I turn around. "I don't need you to hold an umbrella for me. I'm more than capable of doing it myself."

Anneliese doesn't budge a move. She's always been far too stubborn. _Like Zeke_, I can't help but find the similarity.

Unlike many of the others, Anneliese hasn't left. Her deep, red hair has been a constant source of amusement in my life. She's there when I wake up, and when I sleep. They only hired her - well, after the others quit or never returned - so that I don't fall into depression. Or anxiety. Or whatever the Capitol came up with.

"Do you know where Elesa or Nebula are?" I ask, before scoffing. "Sorry, bad joke, I know."

If Zeke was here, he'd berate me. But he's not here. He's dead, and we haven't even seen a coffin to bury him.

I walk across the stage, straight to the chairs. I dry one off and sit down, Anneliese hovering around me, chilled to the bone but completely ignoring her own health for mine. I grab her wrist and pull her closer, underneath the umbrella. I don't say a word. Not like she could reply, anyway.

After what feels like forever, the doors open. Solar comes out with his hands clamped over his ears, Nebula trailing behind him.

"Don't ignore me, Solar!"

"Everyone tries to ignore you," I deadpan.

Nebula shoots me a look. "Nice to see that you haven't drowned in your own vomit yet," she smirks.

"If I did, Anneliese would probably suck it up with her nose like a vacuum," I bite back, ignoring Anneliese's similar glare. "Shouldn't you be sat down with me, as much as it makes me physically sick?"

"I need Solar to do his job, first," Nebula scowls.

Solar pauses, staring at her. "What am I suppose to do?"

"I can't believe you've forgotten!" Nebula shrieks. I've never seen her so distressed before. It's like someone has chopped up her favourite pair of sandals.

When Solar finally replies - and Nebula screams to grow louder and more annoying by the second - I tune them both out, focused on the drawn, grim faces of the teenagers as they pack themselves together like lambs to the slaughter.

As long as Darek and Nicolet's brilliant idea works, then they won't have to worry no more. Or, Spruce will take it into his own hands. He's moronic like that. Either way, by the end of this year, I don't see the Hunger Games living on. If only it didn't cost Zeke and the others their lives. As much as it pains me to admit it, over the years, Zeke's constant nagging and persistence wore me down, and I allowed him in, only for him to then get himself executed.

Then again, it was either him or Nebula. And I'd rather chop off my own limbs than let her talk to me.

Nebula finally sits down, and when I bother to look, Solar has already gone.

"Don't you want to know what he was suppose to do?"

"Not really, but I'm sure you'll tell me anyway," I smile dryly, turning in her direction.

"He has to take Zeke's belongings into his house," Nebula admits quietly. "The Capitol want to take it all away. It's not right, I tell you."

My heart thumps in my chest. Why would they want dusty, dirty books and collectables?

"Is he doing it?" I have to ask.

"I hope so," Nebula smiles wryly. "Elesa can't do it, and if he doesn't, then we'll come home to an empty house."

I nod, looking back out into the sea of children. Soon enough, the escort, Apple, appears, taking her sweet time to collect the first slip. She grabs the microphone, leaning in closer as she flips the ticket.

"Arden Novelle! What a magnificent name!" Apple cheers.

In the midst of the pens, a single, dark-haired girl is left alone. She snaps her head from side to side, as if trying to find someone. The Peacekeepers start walking towards her when she doesn't make a move. One of them even hooks her by the elbow.

"Get off of me," she growls, angrily snatching herself free.

The Peacekeeper shoves her forward, and Arden clambers to the stage with small, dainty steps. On it, she tucks her hair behind her ears and tries to smile, but I'm not buying it. Her fear is as clear as day.

Apple thrusts the microphone in her face. "Anything you want to say, dear?"

Arden shakes her head, staying silent. Apple pulls a face as she walks away. _Least she has attitude_, I ponder, _what else has she got?_

Apple takes the male slip and smiles bright at the dormant crowd. "Quincy L-"

"I volunteer!"

Nebula gasps. I lean up in my seat, eyes wide as I search for the culprit. When I see him, though, my stomach eases away. Oh, he's a proper criminal. The dark-haired boy - decked out in a grey overall, like that of prisoners - steps forward, shackles locked around his wrists.

"Excuse me?" Apple seems ready to faint.

Slowly, the boy moves closer, rattling his chains. "I said, I volunteer. Is that just a thing for the Careers, or can anyone do it?"

A Peacekeeper quickly pulls forth a key, unlocking his confinements. But they don't let him go. With a stun gun pressed into his back, he's forced forward. I can't help but smirk as he climbs the steps. If he thought he could escape, he clearly hasn't watched the last few years worth of death.

"Name?" Apple asks.

"Jayce Kenton, but you can call me Kenton, cutie," Jayce - I don't care, I'm not calling him Kenton - winks at her, causing Apple to giggle like a prepubescent child.

Apple blushes heavily as she takes Jayce and Arden, leading them into the middle of the stage. "District Five, I give you your tributes - Arden and Kenton!"

No-one cheers or applaudes. Nebula stiffens by my side.

I turn, smirking. "Scared of him, are we?"

"You don't know what he's done. He could've murdered someone!"

My face quickly falls. "And you didn't?" I deadpan.

"Not in a malicious way!" Nebula defends herself, cheeks bursting into bright pink, much like Apple's loins did to her.

I roll my eyes. "If you're so worried, then I'll mentor him. He's just another tribute, prisoner or not," I point out.

It takes a while for Nebula to truly think about it. "No, I'll mentor him," she says quietly.

I nod along, but even with Arden and Jayce in front of us, it doesn't cause Nebula's previous words to disappear. They want to clean out Zeke's house, and collect his stuff?

Then, it finally hits me. My heart pauses briefly in my chest, throat suddenly constricting.

Zeke had files on the rebellion.

_Shit._

* * *

**Sansa Rafferty, District Six Female.**  
**One Hundred and Forty Second Victor.**

* * *

"Goodbye, Constance," I smile warmly, standing at the door of her house.

She turns, eyes glazed by the apparent drinking this morning. "Yeah, whatever," Constance grumbles. "Make sure Aston doesn't die or anything. I'm tired of people dying on me..."

My smile falters, but I keep it solid as I slip out of the door. The cool, damp air of District Six clings to my back as I walk through Victor's Village, noting how many houses are truly vacant and hollow. Even Lorcan's house has already been scraped and cleaned. With just three of us, we're suffering bad, Constance more than anyone else.

Another door opens. Aston steps out, eyes weathered beyond his years. I close the distance, looking for warmth.

"Sansa," Aston seems distant, cold. "What are you doing? Where is Constance?"

"I told her that I'd mentor for her this year," I nod approvingly. It was the best decision. She's in not fit state to look after two teenagers.

"That's not your call, Sansa," Aston says quietly.

"I had to make it, though. She's already up to her eyeballs in vodka in there," I choke, feeling the emotions cling to my throat. "Aston... I don't think she'll be okay..."

"She will," Aston replies sternly. "She lost Wisp and moved on. She'll do the same with Lorcan. In fact, she'll do it her way: emotionless."

As we begin to walk down the cobblestone path, I huddle by Aston's side. "I think she's suffering more than you think," I point out.

"More than I care," Aston answers. "Not to be horrible, Sansa, but you haven't dealt with Constance that long. She wanted to lock Lorcan away for help. And now she wants to mourn him and we all pander to her? That's what Constance wants."

I swallow thickly. I always forget that Aston was closer to Lorcan. He even mentioned that Lorcan was like the father he never really had. "I'm sorry for you, as well, you know," I say quietly as we pass through the archway. "I know you were close..."

"And I have to keep going. I can't wallow and drink myself away," Aston's voice breaks for a split moment, like a mask slipping away, but he quickly fixes it back on. "...I have to do something."

"Like what?" I ask.

There's a tense pause. "...anything," Aston eventually whispers. "I have to do something, anything..."

The Square soon comes into view, morbid and suffocated by the misery of fearful teenagers. Aston's pace quickens and he flies up the steps, staring out at everyone. I watch him for a few moments, poised at the microphone as if ready to say something, but he slinks into his seat, seemingly quiet. Confused, I climb up and sit beside him, knowing that I shouldn't ask, but needing too.

"Were you... were you going to say something against them?" I whisper, fearful of the cameras that always watch us. Aston doesn't reply, though. His jaw locks, silencing him. "Aston, tell me... were you?"

"I might've," he chokes.

I sigh. "Don't be reckless," I pull my hands into my lap, fingers bitter cold. "...it won't solve anything."

"I know."

Behind us, the doors fly open and Olivander, our escort, comes sauntering out with his head full of platinum curls. He barely looks at either of us. For that, I'm grateful. Being overlooked was how I won. Submerged beneath piles of snow, I hid for days, wrapped up in a blanket and my clothes and a bag, like I was an animal in hibernation. I had the patience to endure it all. By the time it came around, my opponent was weak and blue from the chilly air.

Every time that District Six is graced with snow, I hide away indoors, hearing the howls of the coyotes replay in my mind as they hunted for their victims in the forest.

I shake my head when Aston taps my shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Aston only points ahead.

Olivander seems confused, staring at the crowd. "Did... did I hear that right? Do we have a volunteer for our males?"

A stoic, calm boy walks towards the stage, his dark hair swept aside. He doesn't look fazed whatsoever. He mounts the steps, looking at Olivander. They share a tense look, before Olivander shoves the microphone into his hands.

"Vectus Perrault," the boy declares, handing it back to Olivander.

"And you want to volunteer?"

Vectus shrugs his shoulders. "I believe that's what I said, is it not?"

Olivander grumbles something, before moving on swiftly for the female slip. He flips it open painfully slow, enjoying the way everyone seems to be on edge, before grinning to himself. "I'm honoured to call down Inari Wilder!" he shouts.

The girl is easy to spot, and my heart thumps in my chest for her. Her dark, cascading curls hide most of her fear, but bright, olive eyes seem to stare straight at me. I swallow thickly. Someone nudges her forward. She stumbles, regains her composure, and walks solemnly towards the stage. The closer she gets, the more evident her fear is.

"I'll mentor Inari," I whisper to Aston, knowing that he hears me despite the blood pumping in my ears. _She reminds me of me_, I can't help but acknowledge.

"Okay, you two, shake hands!" Olivander gleefully commands.

Inari and Vectus share a stare and solid handshake, but quickly look back towards the crowd.

"Sansa?" Aston whispers. I hum, ignoring my own reflected fear that's bubbling in my chest. "I might have things to do in the Capitol, so... I want you to be sure that you can handle it, okay?"

I frown. "Why, where are you going?"

He smiles sadly. "I have things I need to do. Things you can't help with."

Even though I don't want to think about it, I feel like, deep down, I already know the answers. "I promise to help them both," I smile. "It might even be easier if we can persuade them to work together as allies."

"Do what you think is best," Aston smiles. "I know you'll try hard for the pair of them."

I don't have a choice.

I have to try hard. If I don't, and I do absolutely nothing, then what was the purpose of me living?

* * *

**Joaquin Bancroft, District Seven Male.**  
**One Hundred and Forty Sixth Victor.**

* * *

"I really don't think this is a good idea," Opax warns once more, for like, the umpteenth time.

I scoff, spinning back around. "I can handle Spruce, no matter his problem."

"It's not just any problem, though. It's Maple. He's never been sweet on that subject."

"I'll be fine. We're in the Capitol. Not like he can murder me and get away with it," I joke, but Opax's features darken considerably. "I was kidding," I hold my hands up.

"And definitely do not do that, Joaquin. I'm serious. I know you're trying to see the light in it all, but he's just lost the love of his life, and he's pretty much an explosion waiting to happen."

"I know," I sigh. "But Delphine needs you more. I'm just the extra for now. I can handle it."

Without letting Opax say another word - because I'm pretty sure he'd fight this until I either admit that he's right or it goes terribly wrong - I cross the path, straight for Spruce's house. A couple of knocks later, and Spruce appears, weathered eyes looking more angry than mournful. I shuffle my feet, finding a place to start.

"We ne-"

"No," Spruce grunts, slamming the door.

I spin around, seeing Opax and Delphine by their door of Opax's house. "Well, you don't have to worry! He's clearly not leaving his house!" I shout. If I know Spruce enough, I know that it should stir something.

Lo and behold, the door opens behind me. "Move," Spruce grumbles, shouldering past me. Opax waves politely - more out of respect than anything, considering he's never gotten on well with any of them - but Spruce ignores him, hunched body storming down the path and around the corner.

"Joaquin, don't let him do anything stupid!" Opax shouts.

I smirk, raising my hand in a salute. "I'll try my best!"

I hurry down the steps and out of Victor's Village. Despite his age, Spruce is fast, and it takes a lot of jogging to catch up with his swift steps. I move to his side and smile, keeping up his pace. Spruce has never liked me, either. But his mood can easily be persuaded if he's vulnerable, cruelness aside.

"You can speak to me about it, you know," I offer.

"No," Spruce retorts icily. "You'd be the last person I speak to."

I dodge around a few people, but Spruce storms on through. "I know you hate me. I don't why, but I know you do," I laugh, attempting to soften the blow. "That doesn't change anything, though. We're family, right?"

Spruce freezes just metres from the stage. "Maple was my family. My daughter, too. But she took them both away from me."

_Crap_, I think. "I'm sorry..."

"You didn't do anything," Spruce grunts. "Just don't go around telling me to be sweet and act kind to tributes who'll die even if they leave. And don't be treating me like a frail invalid."

"I'd never dream of it," I smile.

A brief flicker of a smile crosses Spruce's face, before he's grumpy again and storms past me once more. I feel like I'm chasing a disobeident toddler. I run after him, up the stage, and into our seats. Spruce smirks as I pant, exhausted.

"You need to lay off the junk food, fatty," he teases.

"Hey," I frown, laying a hand protectively over my stomach. "I like to indulge in life. Sue me."

"If I did, you'd only be able to pay me in candy and diabetes," Spruce shoots back. He hasn't lost that spirit, apparently. I smile fondly, looking away and into the crowd.

Children mill about without real thought. The ones that aren't, though, are frozen in fear and anticipation. Odds are never kind. My poor district partner was the youngest of the young, small and frail and cut down only a couple of minutes into the hedge maze, struck by a hatchet.

Then, a bundle of lemon climbs the steps, revealing to be Cecily. Unlike most escorts, Cecily is sympathetic to everyone. She's kind and gentle to the younger tributes, bolder and straightforward with the older ones.

"Joaquin, Spruce," Cecily smiles, passing us on her way towards the microphone.

"She's too perky," Spruce grumbles.

"You're just bitter," I jab, but instantly regret the words. I look at Spruce's face for any murderous tendencies, but he's calm and clenched. I don't even apologise because it might only twist the knife, so to speak.

"District Seven," Cecily smiles, looking out into the mass. She flips the slip, scanning the name, before gently closing it. "I'll start with your female tribute... Astrid Caverly."

A blonde-haired girl shrieks, piercing the consuming silence. Everyone instantly stares at her, and any unwanted attention is out of the window. She stands stiff, locked in place, eyes paralyzed on the stage. It takes a few moments - and a Peacekeeper to flash his taser - to make her move, and even then, it takes her ages to make it onto the stage.

Cecily wastes no time in taking another slip. She looks so guilty. _You didn't condemn her, Cecily, just your people_.

"And your male tribute is Keaton Malloy," Cecily smiles shyly.

A boy instantly steps out into the aisle. His dark, neatly combed hair shines in the sunlight. But he doesn't move. Not really, anyway. The realisation slowly dawns across his face and he stays rooted on the spot. A nearby Peacekeeper has to slam a hand down on his shoulder - only for Keaton to erupt in quiet, nervous laughter - and guide him towards the stage. Unlike Astrid's face of total fear, Keaton forces shaky smiles in between his laughter.

"I'll have the girl," Spruce gruffs, sounding more animal than man lately. "She reminds me of Maple."

I swallow, suddenly uncomfortable. "Sure," I smile instead. "Keaton looks... interesting."

"Interesting won't save him, though."

* * *

**Darek Jacquard, District Eight Male.**  
**One Hundred and Fifteenth Victor.**

* * *

"It'll be okay," I whisper into Pippin's ear, pulling him into another embrace. He melts in my arms, protected. His body begins to shake with every sob, but I try and ease it away as best as I can. "Shh, it'll be fine," I rub a circle on his back. "You don't have anything to be afraid of."

I pull away gently, smiling down at him.

"It won't work," Pippin mumbles, tears streaming down his face. "Darek... it's suicide..."

"I have many back-up plans," I swipe a tear away with my thumb, my stomach in knots at seeing Pippin's tearful face. "Even if... if I'm taken away or killed... Nicolet and Aston have a plan."

"Do I want to know?" Pippin smiles sadly.

"It's better if you don't," I nod. "Even I don't know. It's a lot safer if I don't, and you, and everyone else. It's between Nicolet and Aston only."

Pippin nods, swallowing the fear that tries to leak from his eyes. "...what's your plan, then?"

"The same as before," I reassure him.

"Are you sure that it'll work?" Pippin asks. "I mean, can you be positive that you'll know when Esmeralda dies?"

"If I remember correctly, when Coriolanus Snow died, a huge coronation was laid out for him. The Capitol mourned and celebrated him for over a month. I'm sure Esmeralda will get the same, and during that time, Theodore will be in power," I recite Nicolet's words. "They'll no doubt make a huge thing about it."

Pippin nods. "Do... do you need me to help or anything?"

"Nope," I smile. "You worry about you. And our tributes, of course. Are you entirely positive that you don't want Tweed to take your place this year?"

"Velvet needs someone stable to support her," Pippin jokes, but the hurt is evident in his eyes. He honestly feels useless. And, the truth is, we probably do need him, but I can't take that risk. If everything explodes, I need to make sure that he's away from the shrapnel. "...Chiffon shouldn't have taken my place..."

"They were never after you," I remind him. "They did it on purpose. They knew that someone would take the blame, Pip."

"It's just not right," Pippin whispers.

"Well, hopefully, in a month, we might have restored normality to Panem," I smile, pushing him along the shoulders down the hall of the Justice Building. "But for now, we have duties, and I have a plan, and you needn't worry about absolutely anything."

Pippin pauses at the door, pushing back against me. "I don't think I can," he whispers.

I nod at the attendant, who swings open the door swiftly. "You know you can. I have faith in you," I whisper down his ear, as the sunlight pours into the building. I guide Pippin out, ignoring the extra amount of Peacekeepers that pack at the sidelines. Pippin slips into his chair and I fall down into mine, keeping a light touch on Pippin's shoulder.

It takes a while for Jackal to appear, but when he does, he comes straight over to us.

"I'm so sorry about your loss," he mumbles, shaking my hand. "Chiffon has always been kind to me, even when I betrayed your district."

"Getting a demotion was hardly a betrayal," I laugh.

"I've missed this district," Jackal smiles.

"You've not been around that much, have you?" I whisper, using my eyes to point out the mass of patrol units. "I take it the Capitol doesn't inform you that much."

"Being a simple designer means I don't get updated that often," Jackal smirks. "But when I do, I'm sure it's to twist some invisible knife. They made me watch, you know. And then they told me that I'd be returning as your escort once more, after almost a decade of not being one."

"Really?" I raise an eyebrow. "Sounds suspicious, don't you think?"

"Absolutely," Jackal nods. He turns to Pippin, giving him a warm smile. "How are you feeling?"

Pippin smiles shyly. "I feel sick."

Jackal's smile turns sad, before he looks at me and curtly nods, knowing that our discussions can only ever be short. If he's been requested here, it can only mean that Esmeralda is searching something. And it's almost a guarantee that Jackal will be watched. I scan around, looking for anything in particular that might raise awareness, but everything looks uncomfortably normal.

When the pens are full, and the crew give the signal, Jackal takes a brief step forward.

"District Eight," Jackal taps the microphone. "I'll begin with your male... Soren Chandtara."

I raise an eyebrow. _What is Jackal playing at?_

Amidst the boys, a figure is isolated by everyone around him. Soren, apparently, seems quick to change to turn red, smothering every inch of visible skin. I see his knuckles clench. I saw his jaw hardened. With hard, storming steps, Soren climbs the steps of the stage and stands in the middle. His eyes never leave Jackal.

Jackal kindly hands him the microphone, but Soren grumbles, looking away finally.

Pippin shrinks into his seat. "Don't be nervous," I smile, squeezing his knee lightly. "I bet he's just pissed off, that's all."

"Or, he killed someone..." Pippin jumps to conclusions. "We could have a murderer, you know..."

I hold back my snort. "Or, he could've been in the wrong place at the wrong time? Are you sure you don't want Tweed to do the honors instead?"

Pippin shakes his head vehemently. "No, I'll definitely do it."

"Then ease up a little," I suggest. Jackal taps the microphone once more, and I turn back, ready to meet the next unlucky girl to fall in a line of others.

Jackal hums. "And your female... Valera Saffel."

The crowd parts with ease. The tall, slender girl looks petrified, watery eyes looking around. She finds someone in the crowd, apparently, because her entire mood drops, and the petrified aura is replaced by anger.

"You did this to me! You did this to me!" Valera screams, jabbing her finger at someone on the outside of the teenagers. "It's all your fault, not mine, yours!

A Peacekeeper storms through the crowd, followed by another and another. They swiftly close in on Valera, who does nothing but scream at whoever she's angry at. I rise from my seat, moving to the edge of the stage. Pippin's quiet pleas to sit down are lost on deaf ears.

The Peacekeeper grabs her by the arm, locking it behind her back. She cries out, being forced forward, and I quickly rush down the steps to meet them in the aisle.

"Get your hands off my tribute," I hiss, snatching Valera free from his grasp. The man snaps his visor up, staring at me with steely eyes. "She's now property of the Capitol. You don't touch her," I warn him, feeling Valera shake under my touch. I lead Valera around and up the steps, keeping close to her side. "It'll be okay," I whisper.

"No, it won't," Valera replies, her voice cold and distant. "I shouldn't even be here."

I release her, smiling sadly. "I'll do my best for you."

"Your best won't be good enough," Valera turns around, looking out at the crowd with cold, unforgiving eyes.

Jackal gives me a look - one that spells fear - so I step back, sliding into my seat quietly. Pippin is quick to latch onto me. I look at Valera and Soren, two sides of the same coin, and my stomach knots up.

Valera's words resound in my head.

Neither of them shouldn't be here.

And it's up to me to try and do something about it.

* * *

**Rhea Beckett, District Nine Female.**  
**One Hundred and Forty Fourth Victor.**

* * *

I sit down gently, ensuring that the slight breeze doesn't capture my skirt. District Nine is rather nice, for what today actually holds. If only I could stay and enjoy.

I'd do anything to not go to the Capitol. Not again.

Each time makes me more and more sick. The looks and whispers as I'm forced to parade myself around. They look at me and they can't believe it. Did she really hide away in a suit of armour, and killed tributes as they walked past her?

They only know half the story. The half that the Capitol wanted them to see. And, I'm bound to silence, told that I mustn't whisper a word of how I hid in it, and somewhere, the Gamemakers proceeded to lock the restraints.

With their help, they turned me into a living trap. By the time I was free, it felt like a second home. An easier way to kill someone without having to look them in the eye. And all I had to do was brace myself against a wall, and wait for someone to walk past me, unexpectedly, and I'd strike before they had the chance to rationalise it all.

"Rhea," Nicolet's voice calls my name. I turn in my seat, feeling disconnected fro my surroundings. "Have you seen Topher?"

"No," I shake my head.

"Have you seen him at all?" Nicolet asks.

"No," I shake my head again. Nicolet's face contorts into anger. "...I believe I saw him some time ago. At your house, I think. He didn't say anything. I just saw his shadow."

"That doesn't help me at all," Nicolet rolls her eyes. "Just... stay there. Not that you'd bother doing otherwise, right?"

I can only nod. "Right."

They say that the medication is to help me sleep. I guess it helps me to feel numb, too. They did it before. I remember they said that a Victor from District Ten was taking them, and it worked for her. But now she's okay. And I just want to be okay, too.

Nicolet nor Topher understand. They've been wrapped up in their own thoughts lately, whispering and cowering behind closed doors. I haven't the energy to even ask them. They won't tell me, anyway. Why do I need to know? I doubt I'll be useful to whatever celebration they're planning.

In the distance, Nicolet comes running back. As she climbs the steps, I pull her seat out, offering it to her.

"You can do other things lately then," Nicolet grumbles, falling down in a heap of sweaty curls.

"The medication feels stronger somehow," I point out. "I feel... disjointed."

Nicolet looks me up and down. "You don't look any different. The same cold, indifferent attitude as before, only coupled with a strange timidness this time."

"I don't feel okay," I whisper. My stomach screams in protest, somersaulting around and making me feel sick again. "...I'm going to be sick..."

"Look, if they're bad for you, stop taking them," Nicolet says the obvious. But again, she wouldn't understand. "Nobody is jamming them down your throat, Rhea. You're doing that yourself."

"They told me it'd help with the night terrors," I choke.

"And yet, I still hear you screaming most nights," Nicolet's voice softens, to the point where she seems unnaturally concerned for me. "It's been going on for too many years. There comes a point when you need to move on, Rhea."

I nod along. I know I should, but some hidden impulse drives me to do it each other.

The escort - Rubius - moves silently across the stage. Like with most of our escorts, Nicolet and him have a problem. She doesn't like his attitude. He disdains her everything. It's the norm, apparently.

"District Nine!" Rubius cheers into the microphone. "I'm just so excited to be here today! The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and we're about to get our freak on! I'll do our lovely lady first!"

He crosses the stage, snatching the slip. I follow his path, right to the edge. With his arms widened like a bird taking flight, Rubius laughs. "Enora Ardley, I 'ardly knew you!"

A tall, slender girl is left isolated in the crowd. It doesn't take long for her to cry, tears streaming down her face. Behind the mass of curly hair, a Peacekeeper moves towards her. Violently shaking and crying, the Peacekeeper - much kinder than most - guides Enora up to the stage.

Rubius snorts in disgust. "Maybe our male will be better...! Silas Torrel, I haven't got a witty line for you!"

"It was just that one time!"

The boy is easy to find. He grudingly drags himself from the section, walking to the stage. He wears a complete mask of disappointment, little chokes and hiccups escaping from his perfect try at indifference. On the stage next to Enora, he shrinks into himself. Rubius quicky grabs both of their hands - and when Silas tries to fight him, Rubius only tries harder - before yanking them in the air.

"District Nine, your tributes! Enora and Silas! Let's hope they last more than a couple of minutes!" Rubius grins.

Nicolet mutters something I don't quite catch. I turn in my seat, swallowing the sickness again. "Who do you want?" I ask.

"Either," Nicolet shrugs, a small smile hidden on her lips.

"Now who isn't helpful?" I mutter, looking around. "I don't mind who."

"Then I'll take Enora, if it'll make this less painful," Nicolet coughs.

I fumble the edge of my dress, watching Rubius guide the pair of them inside the building. It takes a moment for Nicolet to rise, and when she does, Topher is surprisingly nearby, looking at her with wide eyes.

"Rhea, go check on them after their families, okay?"

I narrow my eyes. "Sure," I watch as Nicolet rushes off after him. I'd ask, but I know that I won't see any answers. It's easier to hide, anyway. To be forgettable.

Maybe I can teach the tributes that. It might just save them.

* * *

**Serena Pierce, District Ten Female.**  
**One Hundred and Fifth Victor.**

* * *

"Make sure you write in your journal," Macaulay berates Oxford, almost like he's a child.

"I'm not a child," Oxford echoes my thoughts. "I have plenty of journals, and it's not getting better, no matter how hard I try. I just can't do it."

"You don't have a choice," Macaulay only adds.

"You should let him be, Macaulay," I join in, stepping into the conversation. He gives me a funny look, one of complete shock, but I wave it away. "Oxford is a grown-up. We all are. He can make his own mind up."

"Thanks, Sunny," Oxford smiles.

"Serena," I smile sympathetically.

"That's precisely why you need to continue," Macaulay frowns. "You won't get better if you don't try..."

"I won't get better either way," Oxford grumbles in response, folding his arms across his chest. "I should just quit. Slowly fall into a state where I don't even know my own name."

I can see where the pair of them are coming. Looking at everyone closer, an outsider would realise that District Ten is fully of broken toys. Macaulay went from an alcoholic, to abusing drugs, to holding the sunshine in his hand and dishing out his own knowledge. Oxford will probably never regain his memory. I was forced to take medication to push away the effects of my own arena. To this day, I'm heavily dependant on them, but in secret.

After a round of bickering - without Sunny to mediate, home with her liver currently shutting down on her - Macaulay pauses, huffing in annoyance. He shoots Oxford a glare and storms from the stage, leaving behind a brisk tension.

"I'm sorry about that," Oxford mutters, placing the battered journal to the side. I stare at it and then him, eyeing up the boy who looks aged beyond his years.

I shake my head. "You have nothing to be sorry about," I smile softly. "Macaulay worries about you."

"He just wants to fix me, that's all."

"He wants to help," I point out matter-of-factly. "You know his story, so don't judge him on everything else, okay?"

Oxford shoots me an odd look. "Aren't you still on the medication?"

"Secretly, yes," I bite back. "It doesn't concern you."

"I've never understood why you have to take it in secret."

"Because the Capitol are ridiculous, that's why," I roll my eyes. The years have turned me bitter. Watching my own family tear at the seams was hard, not to mention the added pressure of Esmeralda hounding me, forcing me to hide my problems to look perfect.

I tried to end it.

It felt like the only control I had left. I couldn't help my family. I couldn't escape. I was trapped, suffocating, and the medicine was the only solution, despite being my biggest problem.

Macaulay just had to raise the alarm, though. Because of his careful, caring attitude, I'm forced to hide everything. No Capitolite wants to know that their beloved Victor tried to top herself.

"Either way, I'm fine now. Remotely. Sometimes. I have my good and bad days," I smile. "And so will you. Don't let your bad days define you."

"I've never known you to become so philosophical," Oxford looks down, confused.

"Age changes everyone," I sigh. The escort suddenly appears, skipping across the stage. And clearly, age doesn't affect the Capitol. The elderly man - dressed as a designer cow - seems far too spirited and jovial for his job.

"Hello!" he cheers into the microphone. "I just love this district. Your animals provide me the best steak and venison I've ever tasted!"

He's met with utter silence, bewildered eyes, and more importantly, a few odd stares.

"I'll be quick... quicker than a cow!" he laughs, snatching up the first slip. "Your wonderful female is Zora Hudgens!"

A small, dark-haired girl - right near the front - only stares up at the stage at him. Her face quickly turns red and she whispers a few words under her breath. She slides under the railing and storms up the steps, still muttering to herself.

"Do you have anything to say?" the escort shoves the microphone in her face.

Zora pulls a face. "You look disgusting," she scowls.

It doesn't faze him whatsoever. He just smiles, moving swiftly for the other slip and bringing it back. "And your wonderful male is Daithi Sheahan!"

"Ew, not him!"

Daithi steps into the aisle. He looks completely accepting, as if he knew it was coming. With sullen, stroppy steps forward, people begin to whisper as he passes them. On the stage, next to Zora, he sighs heavily and loudly, making a point of it.

"I hope you have something nicer to say?" the escort repeats the motions, pressing the microphone to Daithi's nose.

"Not really," Daithi breathes. "I... I don't have anything to say. Not important, anyway."

"Disappointing," the escort frowns.

Neither of them look hopeful. Zora looks nothing short of furious. Daithi, on the other hand, seems confused and pale. Together, District Ten doesn't look very promising.

"Who would you like?" I give Oxford the offer. Daithi might be too hard to remember. Zora might be too hard to handle.

"Zoe?" Oxford tries. "No, Zora," he corrects him. "Yeah, I'll mentor Zora."

I smile sadly. "Daithi it is, then."

* * *

**Kane Swallow, District Eleven Male.**  
**One Hundred and Thirteenth Victor.**

* * *

"It's quiet without him," Gypsy mutters, gazing around the small room. It's where we normally gather, before the Reapings begin. And she's kinda right. Without that third person, the room seems bigger than before.

Even losing Ida, I didn't react much. It was sad. Sorta. But for Mako, it tore him up, especially when he was forced to identify her body from the wreck.

Mako, however, has left an imprint on me. He was always the opposite. When I was cruel, he was kind. We worked well together. He helped me when I needed it. Without him, it doesn't feel right. It feels like something is missing.

"We'll bury him soon," I nod. "It's the least we can do for him."

"If they let us," Gypsy grimaces.

"Why keep a supposed traitor in the Capitol?"

"So we can't mourn him?" Gypsy counters. "It'd make sense. It's like a direct punishment to us for letting him do it."

"Mako wasn't a rebel," I shake my head. He was too soft about those things. He might've volunteered - tried to be a martyr - but he was done with that. He had a life. Not a good one, but it was something more than most.

"No, we wasn't," Gypsy's voice drops.

I sigh. "It was you, wasn't it?"

"What?" Gypsy's head snaps up, her knuckles clenching around her drink.

"You're the rebel. And he died for you, didn't he?"

"Absurd," Gypsy's face starts changing colour, and she falls into the pattern of whispering the numbers to curb her anger. Unfortunately, it's a predictable response.

"I don't care. I really don't. Mako saw you as his own blood. It'd make sense for him to want to protect you, or more importantly, die for you," I grit my teeth. "It shouldn't be like that, but it was."

Gypsy stands abruptly, hurling the glass across the room. It doesn't faze me. Her mood swings never do. "I never asked him to!" Gypsy howls, shaking the room with her thunderous voice. "I never asked for him to... to... give up his life for... for me..."

"You shouldn't have been playing with fire in the first place," I narrow my eyes. "I don't have any sympathy for you, Gypsy."

"I never asked for that either," she growls. "I didn't want any of this! That's why I'm trying to help!"

She doesn't give me a chance to respond. She flies out of the room, slamming the door. I steady my breathing, pushing away the brief moments of guilt and annoyance. So, Gypsy was to blame. I had my suspicions. I just had to push her enough to let it go.

I rise silently, heading out of the building. The attendant even tells me that Gypsy went storming off the stage, straight for the train.

"I've never needed her before, and I don't need her now. Let her be," I smile, taking my seat.

The unknown escort arrives shortly after. He gives me a funny look - as if he's done some research and realised that Gypsy should be around, at the very least - before taking to the microphone, a slip already in hand. I sigh, leaning back in my chair, observing the crowd as they pour in.

A few moments later, the escort takes his place.

"Happy Hunger Games," he drawls, looking at the open slip. "I have your male tribute in my hands. Levitt Tithe."

The boy in question seems shocked. I follow his gaze as he looks at me, the stage, and the people around him. But despite the shock, he's placid, cool, and walks to the stage with a certain air to him. He stands as far away from the escort as possible, who snatches up the female slip.

"And your female tribute is Asha Mazuike. Happy Hunger Games."

Asha is the complete opposite to Levitt. She looks up at us all. But more importantly, when she looks at Levitt, her eyes flare in anger. "This is all your fault!"

I quickly look to Levitt, raising an eyebrow. His mask of indifference instantly crumbles. He takes a step back, but Asha comes barrelling out of her section.

"Everyone, please calm down," the escort says monotonously.

_Interesting_, I can't help but think, _I wonder what their deal is?_

Asha gets onto the stage and goes straight for Levitt. Her fist comes flying out of nowhere. Levitt doesn't even bother to move. It connects with his nose and everyone seems to gasp, followed by Levitt's cry of pain, as he falls to the floor. Asha even kicks him before a Peacekeeper restrains her.

Bloodied and beaten, Levitt climbs up, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

The Peacekeeper just shoves Asha through the doors, away from Levitt. He gives me an odd look - a mixture of shame and guilt - as the escort guides him in.

I scoff, leaning back into my seat. _And I thought Gypsy had issues._

* * *

**Crispin Ricknor, District Twelve Male.**  
**One Hundred and Fourth Victor.**

* * *

"You really need to take more care of yourself," Artemis whispers, checking my vitals on the monitor.

I sigh, finding comfort in the awful chair. "I'm an old man. I don't have the energy or the time to jog and eat healthily."

"You're burying yourself alive with the stress," Artemis presses a button, illuminating the screen behind her. I watch in morbid fascination as she shows my veins, and the apparent increase in my blood level. "The blood levels are rising every week, Crispin. Whatever it is that you are doing, you need to stop it. You're killing yourself."

"I'm trying to make a difference," I point out.

Despite being a Capitolite herself, Artemis isn't an elitist. She doesn't even like the Capitol that much. It's completely down to her knowledge of it all. She has to fix the problems - the Victors and their health, suicidal efforts, medication and prescriptions and counselling - and realises that the Capitol do it to us for entertainment purposes.

She sees the districts and their poverty for what they are. She has no illusions towards it.

"You won't live to see a difference if you don't step down," Artemis warns. "I can't up the dosage. If I did, I'd be putting you at more risk for heart failure or a stroke."

"Saskia can't do it by herself," I sigh. My poor, fragile Saskia.

Artemis shakes her head. "Then both pull out."

"Not an option." I hold my ground. Even if she has been with me for years, Artemis should know by now that I have to do it. I have to find a purpose, and I'm clinging to this one, even if it's slowly killing me from the inside out.

My eyes flicker to the clock on the wall.

"It's almost time," I sigh. "Can you turn on the screen?"

Artemis complies, pressing the button. The device bursts to life, showing the live coverage of District Twelve. The camera pans over the stage where Saskia - so small and lost - sits on her own, next to an empty seat that I can't take just yet. _I'll see you soon, Saskia_, I smile sadly.

The escort bumbles onto the stage, looking lost.

Artemis groans. "I hate that woman," she admits.

"She's... new," I frown. "I've never seen her before."

"Her name is Karolina," Artemis shakes her head, leaning on the edge of my chair. "She's probably the most irritating being that I've ever encountered."

I smirk. "It's handy that the subtitles are on rather than the volume then."

I study the words carefully as Karolina, apparently, makes a big speech about her first time in such an astoundingly poor district. Artemis scoffs throughout it all. By the time she takes the first slip, Saskia is terrified, hidden behind Karolina's more robust frame.

The first name appears. Nicholas Carson.

The camera hovers over the boy, who looks impassive, but his hands violently shake, pushing away any sense of strength he tried to show. He moves to the stage slowly, keeping his sight ahead. When he mounts the stage, Karolina kisses his cheek, and Artemis gags at her perky attitude.

The next name comes up in red, too. Avril Benton.

"She looks pretty," Artemis mumbles as the camera finds the dark-haired girl standing alone on the edge of her section, away from everyone else. A steady, white smile appears on her face as she dips under the railing, walking to the stage with her head high.

Unlike Nicholas' reaction, Avril's feels more organic. She doesn't waver or croak. On the stage, next to Nicholas, she is proud and beaming, as if she's already playing a brilliant game.

"I wonder who Saskia will want to mentor?" Artemis asks.

"I'll probably handle Avril," I nod. "She might be too much for her."

"Or, you know, it might be really good for her," Artemis challenges.

I bite my lip. It's not a matter of if, but when, and when I die, Saskia will more than likely be alone. I guess there's no time but the present to let the duckling into the world. "I'll let Saskia decide," I smile, leaning up from the seat. "Are you coming to the Capitol with me?"

"Oh no. I have plenty of other people to see first. Sunny and her liver, for instance," Artemis smiles. "But I won't be long. I'll be back by the time that they launch, so I can be sure that your blood pressure doesn't pop you like a balloon."

I climb out of the chair, bid Artemis a farewell as she leaves through the train, and make my way towards one of the booths. Within seconds, I hear the cars pull up and the cameras emerge.

"It's show time," I whisper.

* * *

**The blog for this story is_ onlyhuman hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

* * *

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

_**Which mentor(s) stood out to you?**_

_**Which tribute(s) stood out to you (even if they're not important here)?**_

******And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**This story will be a little different. And by different, I mean, it's the end so it should be fabulous, right? Right.**

**Everything won't be the same, like I normally do. So, next chapter, we'll hear from the first eight tributes, and over the course of the six Capitol Chapters, every tribute will be featured twice, in a regular pattern so it's all fair and stuff. And I'll be doing something with the Games. So, yeah.**

**Anyway, enough of that. Want to see the Victors and haven't already? Look at the blog. And welcome back to the SYOT Victors: Ajax, Serena, Darek, Ellery, Carnelian and Jezabel! **


	4. Au Revoir

**Au Revoir by OneRepublic.**

* * *

**Au Revoir.**

_Let's play a game: where all of the lives we lead can change. _

* * *

**Asha Mazuike, District Eleven Female.**

* * *

"You're to not leave this room!"

Someone angrily shoves me inside, before the door slams. I spin around, seeing nothing but red, and slam my fist against it. "You can't lock me up forever!" I howl.

There's a soft chuckle. "Well, until the Capitol, I pretty much can."

The fleeting footsteps slowly calm my mood down. I step back from the door, looking through the window instead. The mass of cameras and people soon disappear as another car pulls up, and Levitt climbs out. He moves for the train and gets inside. _It wasn't in my head then_, I briefly recall. _He's actually going in with me._

It feels perfectly ironic.

He's the reason why I'm here. Those months of just watching and staring at me. I didn't see him, at first. But the more I paid attention, the more I realised that he was stalking me, following me. It was too late to ask why. The only way to make him run away was to beat him.

It takes a few moments for the train to begin moving. I hear movements outside the door. I move closer, feeling my skin burn from the anger.

"She's in there," Kane says. I know his voice. It's the grating, high-pitched kind. "I wouldn't bother if I was you. She's a little pissed, at the moment."

"Why?"

"Levitt," Kane snorts. "She beat the crap out of him. It was amusing, to say the least."

The door opens anyway. I jump back, alarmed, as Gypsy Morquin steps inside. Her complacent face leaves nothing to be desired. But unlike most, she doesn't flinch.

Gypsy smiles. "Why did you attack Levitt?"

"I hate him," I snarl.

"I can see that. But why?"

I take a deep breath. "He's the reason I'm here," I admit. "Aggravated assault. Left him in a pile of his own blood."

Once more, Gypsy doesn't flinch. It's like she expects the worst kind of answer from anyone. "Did he deserve it?"

"Yes," I narrow my eyes, pulling my arms around my chest defensively. "I'm not a monster. I wouldn't have just done it without a reason, you know. He... he was stalking me."

Gypsy sighs, taking a nearby seat in the small room. "You have to cool it. You need to be able to sit and stand beside him."

"Impossible," I quickly answer, stepping back like a fleeing animal. I don't want this. Not her, not Levitt, not anyone.

"If you don't, the Capitol will intervene, and that's something nobody wants," Gypsy remarks. "Just don't say a single word to him. Pretend he isn't there."

Levitt has cold, dead eyes. He might seem normal, or different, or whatever he tries to fool people with, but staring at his eyes is like staring into his soul, and it's nothing short of darkness.

"What if I don't want to?" I whisper, throat closing up on me.

"The Capitol will more than likely do some damage-control. They've been known to in the past, and it's never been pretty before," Gypsy sighs, rising again. "You don't have any other option. Sort yourself out and unleash it in the arena, or let the Capitol toy with you as they please."

With that, Gypsy leaves the room. There's a small conversation, before my door locks once more. I don't move from my spot. I look at the door, the floor and ceiling, before eyeing up the window. _I should just escape. Leap through the window and test my luck in the wilderness_, I muse bitterly, though I'm half-serious about it.

Instead, I study it. The blurring trees and mountain range, all signs of District Eleven slowly slipping through our fingers. The pace of the train only matches my thoughts.

It's all too real. I'm not ready to accept it.

Rather than cry, though, I fall down to my knees and curl up into myself. I don't know how to feel. Everything is dulled by the overwhelming hatred for Levitt, for my situation, for Gypsy's truthful words. I still have the entire length of the Capitol to deal with it. To ensure that Levitt pays somehow.

But they won't let me near him.

It's a cruel, cruel place we live in. Where Levitt is the reason I'm here, and yet, I'm the one that's being kept away from him, like I'm the evil one. He's probably out there, smiling and happy, planning away with Kane.

_It's not all about him_, a faint whisper resounds in my head, _you have other reasons to live, to go home. Think of Akua. Don't you miss him?_

"Levitt has to pay, though," I whisper to myself. He shouldn't be allowed to sleep easy.

They can't keep me away from him forever.

But that's neither here nor there.

I stand again, moving to the window and watching the scene fly by. The Capitol grows closer and closer. My stomach twists into a series of knots and other stuff.

The more I try to think about it all, the more it confuses me. The anger slowly fades away, to be replaced by the need to be home, no matter how shitty it was.

One mistake was all it took to bring me here.

It'll take a couple to go home.

* * *

**Vectus Perrault, District Six Male.**

* * *

As the train moves fluidly for the Capitol, nobody says a word.

_Can one die of boredom? _I think, choosing to look around at my surroundings instead. The metallic structure of the train leaves room to be desired, but the lavish, decorative interior is actually pretty. Quite a contrast to the usual hideous Capitol features.

"So..." Sansa mutters. "How about we get to know each other?"

Inari looks up from the table, muttering an answer that Sansa doesn't quite hear.

"I'll start then," Sansa smiles shyly, folding her hands on the table. "Do either of you know how I won? I buried myself in the snow and waited it out. The Capitol called me 'Rabbit' for days."

Her eyes land on me. "Oh, are we doing this?" I sigh, bored already. "I'm Vectus and my hobbies include walking, sleeping, and selling illegal substances. What about you, Inari?"

Inari's eyes shoot up. "You sell, too?"

I raise an eyebrow at her words. "I don't really sell. I run my own operation. I have people to do the distributing for me. I don't know their names, either. Are you one of my people? Because, if I'm being brutally honest, you're doing a slack job at covering your tracks."

"I work for Levi," Inari answers quietly.

"Oh," I mouth. Levi Craven has been nothing but an annoyance to me. He's one of the many reasons why my business is failing. He has exceptionally good runners - Inari being one, apparently - and a better market. "I bet you're trustworthy to him, aren't you?"

Inari shrugs. "I guess. Can you ever be faithful to someone who sells illegal things?"

I smile lightly at that. "I suppose not. But, you didn't rat him out. I don't know who told on me. I'll never know, either. It's rather bothersome when you can't capture the mole." I sigh.

"Levi has never mentioned you before," Inari admits.

"I doubt I'm on his radar," I smile dryly. I used to be better than him. He was nothing more than a little nuisance. But as my clients became sloppy and my runners decided to be lazy - and someone snitched on me - my business has pretty much dissolved.

Inari nods. "He's really competitive. Levi, I mean. Even after I was caught and searched, he pressured me to get back out there as soon as possible."

"And did you?" I ask, genuinely intrigued.

"No," Inari shakes her head. I wait for the rest of an answer, but Inari falls silent, looking back at the table again. I'm sensing a pattern here.

Sansa laughs awkwardly, breaking the silence. I don't remove my watch on Inari. "Well... at least you two have some common ground to work on. It's always important when it comes to allying with people."

Inari's eyes shoot back up, staring at me. "I wasn't insinuating anything when I mentioned our shared crimes," she defends herself, as if I've already condemned her as a choice. What Inari doesn't realise, though, is I actually find her interesting enough to want to sit here and listen to her dribble on, even if she doesn't want to.

A small smile spreads across my lips. "Should I feel offended that you don't want to ally with me? Because, if we're all being honest here, you aren't exactly a catch either, Inari," I point out, watching her squirm.

"I... I don't know," Inari answers quietly.

"I'll make it simpler: you can ally with me if you want, but you only have until we arrive in the Capitol to decide. After that, the offer is closed. I don't have time to waste on waiting for answers." I cross my arms, leaning back into my seat. I've never seen the point in beating around the bush or patience, for that matter. The quicker, the better. Prolonging it only makes things worse.

"Why did you volunteer?"

Everything slows down for a moment. I watch Inari's eyes, before turning to Sansa. "I don't have a particular reason," I lie, watching Sansa's eyes widen in disbelief. "At least one that I want to share to the group. I'd like to have some secrets that the Capitol won't rip from me."

Sansa smiles sadly. "You'll have to spill eventually."

"Maybe," I shrug. "But will my story help me? I doubt it. I don't need any pity or declarations of adoration."

"You're not the only outer-volunteer," Inari mutters, casting a look to the wall. On the screen, District Five's reapings are being replayed. The male is shackled and decked out in the usual, ruffian attire for criminals. _The true epitome of what we all are, apparently. A true criminal._

I turn back, offering a small smile. "I suppose not."

"He looks... terrifying," Sansa whispers, not looking away.

It's definitely the clothes. He only looks more threatening than everyone else because of his appearance. The scruffy, black hair and stubble, combined with the outfit, give the impression of an outlaw. An unhygienic one, at that. I guarantee that he's soft underneath it all.

I spare a glance at Inari, before looking out of the window. Slowly, the scenery morphs, and the trees disappear to make room for the tunnel. We're suddenly pushed into darkness for a few moments. I take a deep breath as light peels into the compartment, and the thunderous sound of dozens of people begin to resound around the empty space.

"We're here," Sansa mutters. "Be prepared, kids. It's ridiculously hard to manoeuvre through the crowd when they're like this."

"Hope they catch my good side," I mutter, rising silently from my seat. Inari follows suit, guided by the soft light breaking through the windows.

The train grinds to a halt. Inari stands silently by my side, both of us looking out of the window in anticipation. The soft, dull light instantly vanishes and the harsh light of the Capitol pours through mercilessly.

I cover my eyes, looking aside. Spots pepper my vision. "Are they purposely trying to blind us?"

Inari is seemingly unfazed. I pull myself upright and follow her train of sight. She stares blankly at the crowd, hands pressed together in front of her. "We're celebrities now," she mutters.

"Yeah, until all but one of us dies. Or didn't you read the brochure?"

Inari laughs lightly. It wasn't meant to be a joke. "Yes, by the way," Inari mutters again.

I raise an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"I'll be your ally," Inari confirms. "It's safer to stick together than split apart."

I nod casually, hearing the door open slowly. The noise only increases in volume. "We'll see about that," I remark, but Inari doesn't hear me.

* * *

**Lanuel Nox, District Three Male.**

* * *

"Just in here," a voice says, a hand locked on my shoulder.

The door slides open. Curiously, I peek inside, before the hand urges me through the threshold. The overwhelming smell of lavender and sweetness invades my nose and I gag, staring around at every inch of the room. Bottles and jars and containers line every visible shelf.

"Roshana will be here shortly."

"Not like I have other commitments," I mutter bitterly, still amazed by the amount of lotions that they can fit into one room. The other woman - portly in size - disappears through another door, leaving me alone. I wait around for a few moments, before it opens again, and this time, another woman steps in.

"I am Roshana," she declares, voice thick with masculinity.

"I never would've guessed," I smile, propping myself against the seat.

Roshana doesn't look too impressed. She eyes me carefully like I'm her meal, for jutting a stubby finger towards the seat. "Sit," she commands.

_Don't I get a treat?_ I think bitterly, climbing onto the leather. It squeaks underneath me as I lounge back, completely uncomfortable. Roshana towers over me, poking my pale skin. She doesn't say a single word. I try and tune out the idea of being waxed and skinned by her, but Roshana makes it impossible with her silence and all.

"I don't want to be rude," I mutter. "But aren't you suppose to, you know, talk to your tribute?"

"Do you want small talk?" Roshana gruffs.

"Not particularly," I sigh.

"Then why are you complaining?"

"I wouldn't call it complaining. I'm hoping that it might hurry you up," I smile wryly, tilting my head back further to see her. She leans up, snatching two jars from the very top shelf.

Roshana stays silent as she applies the first cream to my chest and arms. I wince at the cool feel, closing my eyes to try and slip into a place where I can feel happy. Instead, though, I can only think about the damn jars. _What were they all for? Why does she need so many? Is Roshana even a female, as if I can talk?_

"You have nice skin," Roshana mutters, applying a piece of paper on top.

"District Three has brilliant weather," I smile dryly. "I'm surprised I don't feel like sandpaper."

As quick as a flash, she yanks the paper away. Fire erupts across my skin and I howl, jumping upwards. I quickly rub my arm, feeling tender and violated. I stare at Roshana and her smug smile, eyeing her carefully. She looks proud of herself. I lean down, more alert than before as she repeats the process, leaving me feeling bruised all over.

"I need you to turn over," Roshana commands.

"Say please," I narrow my eyes, unwavering. But instead, I break, flipping onto my stomach. Normally I'd wait it out, but I don't feel like waiting forever. Roshana seems as stubborn as me. Roshana suddenly sucks in a sharp breath and I instantly know why. "Oh, those? Ignore them. They're nothing important."

"I take it that you were punished with a lash or two, hmm?"

"Try seventeen," I smile wryly, folding my arms to lay on. The scars don't really bother me. Not anymore, anyway. They're a constant reminder of betrayal for me. That, above all else, selfishness will always come before friendship. Veeze doesn't even realise the damage he caused. He probably never will.

Roshana is more careful than I imagined. She gently touches my back to apply the lotions. Even when it's time to hose me down, the pressure of the icy water is reduced dramatically, as if she's afraid I might shatter like glass.

"What did you do that was so wrong?" Roshana whispers. The cool look she wore has pretty much vanished. Now, she's full of curiosity and sympathetic, a lethal combination.

"I trusted the wrong people," I sigh, standing up and pulling the soft robe over my shoulders. "Are we all done? I really want to put some clothes on."

Roshana is taken aback by that. "...I need to do your face now."

"I don't wear make-up, if that's suppose to be a subtle insult," I narrow my eyes, untrusting of her sudden good-hearted nature.

"I need to pluck your eyebrows and wash your hair," Roshana challenges. "I thought we were having a moment then."

"Sorry to burst your bubble, but I don't swing that way," I spin around, sitting back down in the chair and knocking my head back. Roshana silently combs her fingers through my hair. She washes it, dries it, and styles it enough to look presentable. She guides me to the mirror and patiently waits for some sort of congratulations.

"Well?"

"I look... okay?" I shrug. "I don't see any differences."

"I put more volume in your hair," Roshana glares.

"Like I know about volume," I roll my eyes, letting her spin me around to face her. Tweezers come jutting out of her fingers, carefully snatching away any form of my identity that she can grab. When she's finished, she makes me look once more. My features look even more feminine now. "I take it you've always wanted a female tribute?"

"You're as female as they come," Roshana smirks.

"I'm pretty. Guys can be pretty. Don't confuse the two," I gruff, pulling everything closer to me. "Am I done now?"

Roshana wiggles her eyebrow playfully. _She's impossibly irritating_, I scowl. "Through that door," she points.

I follow through without question, letting the robe hang loose on my body. They'll only rip it off of me in a few seconds. Through the dull light and subtle noises, I finally find the middle of the room, where a man helps me up onto a podium. The spotlight above turns on and everything around me turns dark.

_This is what it'll be like all the damn time now_, I remark, staring around.

"Should we use electronic devices again?"

"No, I think that's overused," I point out into the darkness. "Three? Technology? How mundane."

The small, portly woman steps out from the shadows. She's obviously my stylist, but who is she talking to? Another spotlight appears to my left, illuminating Farryn, curled up into her oversized, white robe.

I smile sadly at the small girl. We must be dressed identical, I guess.

"What do you think then?" the woman gruffs.

"No lights, or gadgets, or anything remotely related to our field," I shrug. "I don't know. I didn't take a course on dressing people like you did. You should know more than me."

After a moment of silence, Farryn turns to face me, a look of uncertainty on her face. I give her a comforting wink - because no matter what anyone says, you can't dislike Farryn, even if we'll never be allies - before looking at my stylist.

"You can be... fireworks!" she gasps.

* * *

**Cadence Halsey, District One Female.**

* * *

The illuminating lights of the Remake Centre cast an eerie glow on everyone below. I step forward, guided by Clarent's reluctant arm.

"You look rather dapper," I tease, poking Clarent's bicep. The bronze-coloured suit hugs him in all of the right places. If we wasn't in the Hunger Games, I would've jumped him by now.

"I could say the same about you," he answers, an edge of confidence to his voice.

Behind us, Niobe teeters along, heels far too high for her. As we reach the chariot - led by white stallions, so majestic and beautiful - I slide my arm free. Niobe is upon on us within seconds.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Niobe bats her eyelashes, smiling to herself. "I had a photoshoot, and then someone wanted to take me out for a meal and that led to an overnight stay, and yeah, you wouldn't really understand my lifestyle."

It sounds vaguely familiar. Many, many times a casual meal or drink has led to me passed out somewhere, dreading to remember the memories of the night before. That's when you know a party was worth the effort.

"One of us might know soon," I point out, smiling.

Niobe laughs, but it's apparent that she doesn't believe it. Not that she matters, anyway. I've never been one to be awfully rude - only sometimes, usually when alcohol is replacing my blood - but Niobe is notoriously famous for whoring around. She's too almighty compared to the others. At least Carnelian is nice.

Clarent looks over his shoulder as Niobe abruptly leaves. Behind us, Ares and Kaitlin hang around the edges of our vision, detached from one another.

"I'm going to say hi!" I smile, before rushing off and leaving Clarent mildly confused.

I clamber over the reigns of the chariots, hoisting the dress to my knees. Ares and Kaitlin watch me with confused looks as I reach them.

"I'm Cadence," I beam, waving politely at the pair of them. I follow Kaitlin's bemused eyes, straight down to the end of my dress. The reigns have pulled the seams loose. I yank it up and, with a swift rip, the entire bottom half of my dress falls. "Ignore that. It's a pain, anyway. I'm not one for that much glamour," I smile.

"I'm Ares, and this is Kaitlin," Ares smiles, much smaller in person that I imagined. In all honesty, the pair of them look nothing like the stereotype that flies about their district.

"Clarent is over there. He's too lazy to come over," I tease, looking over my shoulder and winking at him. "I'm sure he'll do it eventually. After all, he wants to lead this group," I look at Ares. "Are you okay with that?"

"Definitely," Ares' smile is shaky, unsure.

"I could always do it," I ponder, shrugging nonchalantly. "I mean, I'm obviously not as built as Clarent, but I could do a decent job. I'd be a fucking awesome leader," I muse, smiling at Kaitlin. She only stares back with a blank look in her eyes.

Ares laughs lightly. "I'm sure you would... have you met Douglas or Evangeline yet?"

"Nope," I shake my head. "Why, have you seen them?"

"Evangeline is over there," Ares points. I follow his finger right to the edge of the room, where a small, petite girl is overwhelmed by the seaweed strapped to her body. "She's nice," Ares continues. "A little excitable, but nice."

"I like nice people," I smile. "I'll go over there later. I wanna chat some more, first. So, tell me Ares, what do you specialise in?"

His eyes widen, like an animal caught in headlights. "Specialise...?"

"As in weapons," I laugh. He's rather cute. Like, the dopey, sweetheart kind. "I mean, you trained, right? You must be good at something."

"A sword, I guess..." Ares trails off, looking at Kaitlin for an answer.

"Katana," Kaitlin mumbles.

"I like that! That's cool," I grin, trying to urge something from Kaitlin. Instead, that blank look returns, and she stares off into the distance. She'll be hard to work around, but I suppose you don't turn your back on someone, no matter their faults. "I trained in swords, too. How you do like them, Ares? Do you like them big and strong, or slim and light?"

"I... I don't know," Ares admits.

"Slim and light is easier for me to use," I carry on. "It's like cutting air, really. So easy to use. You should try it! Oh, I could teach you!"

"You have other things to do, Cadence," Clarent's voice beckons. I turn around to see him coming over. He eyes Ares and Kaitlin up, before his eyes settle on me.

I playfully cover my chest. "Don't look at my boobs, Clarent. That's rude."

"I wasn't," Clarent smirks, turning to Ares. There's a silent stare shared between the two. "I don't need to introduce myself. I'm the leader."

"Ares," Ares mutters, smiling shyly.

Kaitlin doesn't even answer. She just looks up at him blankly. I'm beginning to see a pattern.

"We should head for the chariot. It'll start soon," Clarent smiles, giving me his arm for support once more. I slide my hand in and allow him to lead me away.

But, I spin around at the last moment. "Bye, you two! It was nice meeting you!" I call, before Clarent drags me away. He politely helps me up onto the chariot, before hopping up himself.

"They're nice," I smile, patting the side of the horse mindlessly.

Clarent hums. "Kaitlin is a little weird, though."

"Don't be mean," I frown. "She's just not as outgoing and brooding as you, Clarent."

"Ares seems weak, too."

"I think he's perfectly capable," I shrug, ignoring Clarent's opinions. "You shouldn't judge a book by the cover. I mean, do I look like a slut? Yeah, I do, but I'm not one entirely."

Clarent stifles a laugh. "Not the best comparison, Cadence."

"I don't care," I laugh. "The point is, you shouldn't just write them off. Kaitlin told me - well, mumbled - that she specialises in katanas. How ferocious is that?"

Clarent doesn't answer. But, I know my words have sunk in. Behind us, Ares and Kaitlin climb in. I give the pair a kind wave, before the doors of the Remake Centre suddenly open, and every feeling and noise is suffocated by the thunderous applause and cheers.

I raise my hand and prepare to wave, as the stallion pulls us into the light.

* * *

**Arden Novelle, District Five Female.**

* * *

The Remake Centre turns into a blur as the horse pulls us forward.

I grip the handle, making sure not to fall. Butterflies and knots build in my stomach as District Three disappears into the noise, their colourful creations exploding in light as it begins.

"You look so scared," Jayce points out, his voice callous.

I don't say a word. I really, really don't like Jayce. He's so bewitching and twisted. And Kenton is a stupid, stupid name, which adds to his overall lack-of-appeal.

The chariot surges forward, pulling us into the light. I take a deep breath, for what feels like hours, before the light filters away and the screaming suddenly becomes the norm. I blink a few times to rid myself of the spots, before looking around at the crowd. Everyone is cheering and screaming, clapping and stamping their feet.

I hear Jayce's last name being called more than once.

He loves it, though. He holds a single hand in the air and smugly waves at anyone who pays enough attention to him.

"You don't have to be such a dick," I mutter, more for myself than anything. Speaking gives me comfort. It helps ease the pressure from my skull.

"I heard that, you know," Jayce answers.

"Good," I breathe, releasing my grip and flexing my aching knuckles.

The chariot turns the corner. More names are thrown into the air.

Clarent. Cadence. Avril. Inari. Keaton. Enora. Valera.

_Arden_.

I turn, mildly surprised to hear my own. In the furthest row, a small amount of people hold a a banner, one with my name etched across it. I smile, thankful, before it turns sour and I'm reminded that these people will still want to see me dead, too. _Not if I can help it_, I muse.

The chariots begin to slow down. The odd-numbered districts head to the left, whilst the even-numbered head to the right. Our chariot pulls up next to District Three, where their explosive costumes are dying down slowly, letting off puffs of black smoke.

It's nothing in comparison to ours. Jayce and I are dressed as windmills. Every time I turn, the wind catches my headpiece and the spindles they, well, they spin, only adding to the cheesy gimmick further.

My eyes meet Farryn Lore, who looks tiny amongst the mess. I offer a sweet smile, one that's returned with only a little bit of hesitation.

_I need to start thinking of an alliance_, I remind myself. Jayce the Face will clearly try and muscle his way into the Careers or a stronger, well-built alliance.

Esmeralda Snow is wheeled forward, where she delivers her speech. I tune out the words - pointless, pointless, pointless - and focus on everyone around me. District Seven doesn't look too great, either. Keaton Malloy is tense and stiff, whilst Astrid Caverly is casually picking her nose.

After what seems like forever, the chariot surges forward again. Jayce raises his hand in the air again, capturing more cheers as we're guided back into the Remake Centre.

"I made such a good impression," Jayce nods, confirming my belief that he's self-absorbed. Not that I needed much evidence.

"Well done," I whisper, still peeved. I just want to get away from him.

The moment the chariot halts, I leap down, ignoring Nebula and Ellery as they come over.

"You both did so well!" Nebula claps, looking genuinely proud.

Ellery, on the other hand, gives Jayce a blank look. "I'm surprised Arden got onto that chariot, considering how much room your ego takes up, Jayce."

"Kenton," he hisses.

"I'm not a prison bitch," Ellery smiles, looking at me. "You did okay. Stiff, but okay."

"As you said, it was hard to be noticed when the ever-so-wonderful Jayce was taken up most of the attention," I smile proudly. "I did more than okay. I had a banner."

"Might as well hand you the crown already," Jayce smirks, abruptly walking away from everyone. Nebula doesn't follow. She's still nervous around him, apparently.

The pair of them suddenly look at me.

"What?" I frown, attempting to hook the windwill from my head.

"Nothing," Nebula laughs, slipping out of the conversation.

"It's because your head is too big," Ellery raises an eyebrow.

"It definitely won't fit you then," I bite back, finally catching the clasp and snapping it open. I ease it off of me and hand it to Ellery, who looks at it with such disdain. "Keep it as a souvenir. Or bludgeon Jayce with it in his sleep. I'm content either way." I smile.

Ellery nods, a small smile on her face. "I like you, Arden. Try not to die too quickly."

"I'll try not to die at all," I reassure her. "But, thanks for the vote of confidence, Ellery."

The other tributes start to dismount their own chariots. Ellery sulks off into the mass, no doubt trying to find Nebula. I linger around the chariot for a while - briefly making eye contact with Farryn once more - before I retire to the elevator as well.

As I slide in, somebody else does.

Astrid Caverly. The nose-picker.

I try not to laugh as we ride up in silence. But the truth is, Astrid done it blatantly and without a care in the world. It was hilarious. As the doors open, I slide past her and onto Floor Five, smiling politely as they close again.

She's an option. Farryn, too.

Once training begins, it's time to build a team.

* * *

**Douglas Orsett, District Four Male.**

* * *

In the distance, the other Careers have gathered together again, just like before.

I hop down from the chariot, hurrying Evangeline up. Of course, the shorter girl isn't anywhere near compliant. "Don't get your panties in a twist," Evangeline smirks, dusting down the seaweed trapped to her body. "We have plenty of time to befriend the competition."

"Allies," I remind her. "We need them as allies first. Competition later."

"You have such a way with words," Evangeline smirks again.

"You know what I mean," I bite my lip, suddenly nervous. "They probably think that we hate them or something. We're taking too long to build the bridge."

Finally agreeing, Evangeline concedes, following me as I rush across the Remake Centre. As we near, Cadence Halsey looks up, smiling wide as we slide into the group conversation.

"Just in time!" Cadence chirps. "We were discussing some things, getting to know each other, you know, introductory stuff."

"Cool," I smile, easing myself down. I don't want to look like I'm trying too hard. "I'm Douglas. Hey," I wave, eyeing each of them up. "What we talking about?"

"Skills," Clarent interrupts, instantly dominating the conversation. "What do you know, Orsett?"

"Oh, last name basis, how professional," I smirk. "I don't really know, if I'm honest. I don't want to sound like a jackass and just start telling you. So, like, I'll show you tomorrow?"

Clarent nods. "Whatever," he mumbles. "Ares, you were saying?"

Ares' eyes widen. "...nothing."

"Hey man, it's okay," I clap him on the back, surprised at how bony he feels. I know he looks small, but I expected it to be more of an illusion, like tightly packed muscle or something. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"You didn't," Ares smiles shyly.

"Then I'll go!" Evangeline steps in. The first, easiest thing to know about Evangeline is her love to dominate the spotlight. Even during the chariots, when people called my name, she took it to her advantage by raising my hand for me. I could only laugh and smile. It's not really my place to stop her. "I'm pretty nifty when it comes to gymnastics. I'm nimble, too, and swift with a spear or a javelin or that."

"Gymnastics?" Cadence smiles. "What's that like?"

"I bend my limbs in different shapes and stuff... what did you think it was like?"

Cadence laughs lightly, but it's apparent she's a little flustered. "How about we try something different? Split up, all get to know each other in twos or something?"

"Why would we do that?" Clarent glowers.

"To learn," Cadence pressures. "Evangeline, walk with me!"

Cadence snakes her arm through Evangeline and leads her away. I linger for a moment, but it's apparent that I need to speak to Ares or Kaitlin. Definitely not Clarent. He only reminds me of what I should be more like.

"So, Ares," I start, ushering him to follow me with my head. He does, slinking back slightly. "What should we talk about?"

"I'm not sure," Ares smiles, arms tightened behind his back. "You can decide."

"Aw, no fun," I joke. "Okay, what do you think of the others?"

Ares' smile wavers. "I... I like them."

"Cadence is hot," I admit, smirking.

"Yeah, I guess," Ares answers.

If Clarent makes me feel inadequate, it must be worse for Ares. He genuinely looks uncomfortable, even around me. I don't want that. I've always made a point of befriending anyone and everyone. I've had too many bad influences and good people by my side.

"I... I can see that you don't look okay," I begin, carefully watching him. "I don't want to, you know, go all shrink and that on you, but you can speak to me, if you want. I'm not like Clarent. I won't shut you down."

"I'm fine, thanks," Ares seems even worse now. I fumble for some more words, before Clarent comes over, towering over the pair of us.

"Switch," Clarent says, pointing to Kaitlin behind him. I don't question him. He's obviously taken control.

I approach Kaitlin, who doesn't look at all interested.

"Kaitlin," I smile, fumbling with my fingers. "Why don't you tell me something about you?"

"Why?"

"Because... that's the idea of this little exercise...?" I raise an eyebrow.

Kaitlin shrugs. "I doubt there's anything you need to know."

For the next couple of minutes, we stand in silence. Every time that I try and pry some words from her, Kaitlin looks at me like I've just said the most stupidest thing in the world, if I probably did do. When Cadence and Evangeline return, I'm more than grateful. Cadence takes me by the arm and leads me away, like we're off onto an adventure.

"Evangeline is lovely," Cadence smiles, pausing at the edge of the room. "It must be something in that water of yours."

I like Cadence, even if we just met, and total hotness aside. There's this aura to her that attracts people, I guess. Even Evangeline looked happier than normal, and it's no doubt because she was checking out Cadence, too.

"I really don't know what to talk about," I laugh. "Ares was quiet and Kaitlin didn't answer."

"Sounds about right," Cadence laughs, throwing her dark hair over her shoulder. "Clarent will probably just grumble and slam his fists against his chest. Or, he might try and pee over you. Whatever men like him do nowadays."

"He's a little... strong," I admit carefully. Clarent is her district partner, after all. And as bewitching as Cadence is, how do I know she has no ulterior motive?

It's apparent that everyone is diverse.

Me and Cadence fall into a short talk. One that includes her partying lifestyle back in District One and my stereotypical love for surfboarding. When the bell chimes, it's even more apparent that the Careers are the only ones left in the Remake Centre.

We all pile into the elevator. Clarent and Cadence slip away immediately. Ares and Kaitlin step out silently, not like it's anything unusual for the pair of them.

"They're all odd," Evangeline remarks. "That Kaitlin girl... I got maybe two, three words from her? She doesn't like to chat, obviously."

"Maybe she's shy?"

"I would be too with that haircut," Evangeline grimaces, as the doors open. "And Ares is, I don't know, he looks like someone just kicked his puppy."

I don't put much thought into it. I'm trying not to, anyway. Evangeline slips away and neither Nerissa nor Kendra say much. I sit down, silently contemplating everything, but I keep coming back to one thought only.

_Have I finally become what you wanted?_

* * *

**Silas Torrell, District Nine Male.**

* * *

"Would you care to play a game with me, Enora?"

Enora's head suddenly pops over the side of the couch, eyes bright and curious. "You have an idea in mind?"

I wag the cards at her, which gains an excitable gurgle. She hurriedly clambers over the couch, sliding into the seat opposite me. I shuffle the cards a few times, hitting the table every other time.

"Do you know the rules?"

"No," Enora smiles giddily, pushing bedraggled hair from her eyes. "Tell me."

"Basically, I ask you if you have a card and if you do, you hand it to me. If you don't, you tell me to find it, and I pick one up from the pile. It's really simple," I smirk, dealing out her fair share of the cards. Enora excitedly snatches her pile and stares at it, concentrating.

"Who goes first?" Enora asks.

"Me," I smirk. "Do you have a _3_?"

"No," Enora shakes her head. "Oh! Oh oh! Go find it!"

I slide a new card into my hand. "And now it's your turn."

"Do you have a _3_?"

I laugh, slightly exasperated by Enora's lack of intelligence. "You're not suppose to ask me it if you don't have it. Repeat a card in your hand to me."

Slowly, it dawns on her. "Oh," Enora mutters. "Do you have a _7_?"

"Find it," I smile. As she grabs the card and slides it into her hand, I take my chance. "So, Enora, tell me some things about you. We might as well chit-chat whilst we play about."

"What do you want to know?" Enora smiles, completely oblivious to my tricks.

"Surprise me," I wink, and Enora begins to babble on about her life and story. Through the muted details, I can piece together her character, inspect her flaws, and through it all, I'll know her better than she does.

From the conversation, I instantly pick up on certain things. Enora is disorganized. From a wayward, free lifestyle, she's learned that order and control are obviously not necessity. She's insecure, too. She speaks with a quiet voice, as if she's waiting for someone to steamroll over her and shut her down. She's careful, fun, kind, and genuinely too golden-hearted to survive the bloodbath.

A couple of minutes later, I fold my remaining card down. "You've beaten me," I grin, tilting my hat backwards. "Well played, Enora. You make a good opponent."

"I don't even know if I did it right or not!" Enora laughs.

_You didn't_, I muse, _I basically cheated so I'd lose. Don't want to hurt that fragile self-esteem any further. _

I scramble the cards into my hand, fold them neatly, and stand up. "I should put these back before Nicolet realises that I broke into her room," I smile, leaving the room briefly. Nicolet won't know. She's too obnoxious to see past herself. I place them back in the draw and return, finding Enora on the couch once more, laid upside down. "Why do you do that?" I ask, amused.

"It helps me think," Enora squints, biting on her tongue.

"Why do you need to think?" _Not that you have much up there to begin with. _

"I... I need an ally," Enora smiles sadly, flipping down onto her back with a muted thump. "I'm not ready to be on my own. I don't even know what will happen, you know? I mean, I'd feel safer with someone. Yeah, that's it. Safer."

"Alliances are useful tools," I acknowledge, sliding down next to her. Enora is sweet. It genuinely makes me feel bad that she's here. There's no real chance or luck to the Hunger Games.

You win by being an asshole, plain and simple.

"I want someone nice and helpful," Enora gushes. "Do you think there's someone out there like that?"

"Maybe?" I raise an eyebrow. "We're all criminals, Enora, so I don't know. It's possible. Pretty sure you'd have to look past the whole murder-assault-theft stuff that might shroud it."

Enora stiffens at the reminder. She did the same when Rhea inquired about her crime. I was open about mine - a complete, stupid accident that I may or may not have taken too far - whereas Enora shut down, blinking rapidly and completely numb to it all. For all I know, she could be a murderer, too, if I didn't believe that Enora is the type to be framed or tricked.

She's hardly a master criminal.

"It's okay," I frown, staring at her.

"Yeah, I know," Enora smiles shakily. "I might just go to sleep now. We have a busy today tomorrow."

Puzzled, I watch Enora stand and leave, a mournful expression on her face. If she's trying to hide from the truth, it won't work. It'll only be a bigger reality check. One that'll stamp on her face.

I'm prepared. Games are my speciality. Tomorrow, it's time to set the wheels in motion and jump a couple steps in front of everyone else.

* * *

**Astrid Caverly, District Seven Female.**

* * *

_Why must the Capitol be so damn prissy? _

It's all I can think about. Pretentious clothes. Sickening food. Lavish furniture. What happened to _Panem Today, Panem Forever _and all that? I only see Capitol. Capitol, Capitol, Capitol.

"Keaton, I'm hungry," I moan, dragging my feet around the kitchen area.

"We've just had our meal," Keaton frowns. "Where are you putting it all?"

"In the garbage," I playfully pretend to gag, stopping by one of the pantries. "I need proper food. Not sweetened drool or pretentious fruit. I want meat, or oatmeal, or soup."

I swing the pantry door open, pushing away the first row of tins. Digging deeper, past the ridiculous amount of prunes and apricots, I find a battered tin of broth. I cheer, snatching it free from the dust.

"What'd you find?" Keaton asks, leaning up on the couch.

"Broth. And I'm not sharing," I narrow my eyes, ripping the can opener from the drawer. I skillfully pull the lid free, smiling at the dull, grey meat swimming inside. Rather than get a bowl, I dig my fingers in and pop a piece into my mouth.

"You can use some utensils," Keaton laughs.

I swallow. "The Capitol has changed you," I deadpan, licking my finger clean.

"They have not," Keaton blushes, looking away briefly.

"Have you always eaten some extravagant food with forks and spoons?" I tease, smiling through my chewing. I swallow again when Keaton gives me a blank look. "No, you haven't. You caved so easily, man. You're weak."

"I..." Keaton is lost for words. Bright pink and stuttering like a fool.

_Not that I'm surprised_, I muse, _I burped right in his face and he didn't say a word, only blushed and stuttered, much like now._

"You do that a lot, huh? Stutter and get tongue-tied?" I point out.

Keaton smiles shakily. "It's hard to find... an answer for it..."

"Don't see it as a flaw then," I shrug nonchalantly. "I mean, weak is a good thing, too. It means invisibility, dependency, even stealth. If you're weak - forgettable - then you won't be attacked."

"Odd way of seeing it," Keaton smiles shyly.

"See it as you want," I drain the last amount of the broth, catching the tasteless sauce with my tongue. "You only have three days to make a lasting impression on someone for an alliance."

"Have... have you thought about alliances?" Keaton asks.

"Nope," I shake my head, tossing the can into the garbage. "I'll find whoever when I see them. I'm not too fussed."

"But shouldn't you be? You need to trust that person, Astrid," Keaton frowns.

"That's why you have three days to learn everything about them so, if it comes down to trust, you can easily beat them," I smile, sounding more hostile than I imagined. I'm not out to betray someone. But it's handy to find someone, learn everything, so if it happens, you aren't entirely fucked.

At that moment, Joaquin enters the room, sleep draped in his eyes. "You alright?" he smiles tiredly.

"Fine," Keaton smiles.

"Yeah, I'm great," I roll my eyes. "Finally found some food that's edible."

"That happens a lot here," Joaquin laughs, digging through the same pantry I did. "Aw, who ate my broth?"

"Keaton did," I smirk.

He doesn't even bother to try and defend himself. When Joaquin looks up, Keaton blushes and points at me instead. Joaquin stares at me with a blank look. "Not cool, Astrid."

"It didn't have a label, so, it's not exactly yours," I slide past him, heading for the couch. I flop down, kicking out. "If it's not labelled, it's public property. My parents and our wack government system taught me that."

Joaquin laughs, grabbing something else from the top pantry. "I suppose not."

"I'm always right," I shrug. "It's a gift I've honed for many, many years now."

"Like when you were caught for attempted murder?"

My throat tightens at the mention of it. It was clearly dramatized. The Peacekeepers in District Seven are either shitty at their job, or too corrupt to see anywhere but their bowels. "I was clearly accused," I casually shake it away, picking some food from between my teeth. "I never got convicted of it. Whipped, maybe, but I'm secretly into the hardcore stuff."

"How can you speak so openly about it?" Joaquin laughs, shaking his head. "You don't even seem fazed."

_I am fazed, though. More than I let on, _I muse. "Not point dwelling on it. I have other stuff to fill my mind now. Like, what weapon should I attempt to shank my opponents with? You know, average tribute stuff."

Joaquin nods, turning to Keaton. "She isn't bothering you, is she?"

"No," Keaton smiles. Like he'd actually snitch on me anyway. "I might just head off to bed, though. We have a lot to do tomorrow."

Joaquin pats him on the back and Keaton departs, probably more flustered than he imagined himself being. I blink a few times as Joaquin stares me. "Can I help you?" I ask, scratching my hair. _Damn glitter. A tree nymph was not suitable for me. _

"You need to buckle down and take it more seriously," Joaquin frets.

"I will eventually," I remind him. "How do you know that this isn't all just a front, and that I'm secretly plotting my every move?"

Joaquin raises an eyebrow. "Are you?"

"Of course not," I roll my eyes. "It's a possibility, though. You don't know me."

"You're reckless, messy, and rather rude," Joaquin jokes, but there's a glimmer of truth in his eyes. "I think I know your type all that well."

"Grouping people together? Shame on you, Joaquin. You should know better. How would you feel if someone compared you to a common murderer, or even a serial killer?" I smirk, catching him off-guard.

"Don't turn this around on me," Joaquin laughs breathlessly.

"It's what I'm good at. That, and being reckless, messy, and rather rude, according to you," I wink, swinging myself off of the couch. "I'll head to bed, too. Night, Joaquin."

"Night, Astrid," Joaquin smiles as I pass him.

"Oh, and one more thing?"

Joaquin spins around. "What?"

"Be careful when you wake me up tomorrow. If I don't see bacon when I first open my eyes, you might want to run."

* * *

**The blog for this story is_ onlyhuman hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

* * *

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

**_Thoughts on these eight tributes?_**

**_Favourite POV?_**

**_Out of the remaining tributes, who else are you interested in hearing from?_**

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**There we have it! Asha, Vectus, Lanuel, Cadence, Arden, Douglas, Silas and Astrid. **

**The next eight will take place over Training Day One, and everything fun around it. What alliances will be formed? Who will begin the slow, agonizingly heated plots?**

**As always, I'll keep a small list at the bottom here for confirmed alliances, ones that won't be edited (they can only grow): VectusxInari. **


	5. Shot in the Dark

**Shot in the Dark by Within Temptation.**

* * *

**Shot in the Dark.**

_I've been left out alone like a damn criminal. I've been praying for help 'cause I can't take it all._

* * *

**Levitt Tithe, District Eleven Male.**

* * *

When the morning burns through the curtains, I turn over, hiding away from it.

"Levitt!" Kane's voice bellows through the door seconds later. "You have to get a move on, man! Asha isn't allowed out until you're gone!"

_Asha is more volatile than I imagined,_ I muse, forcing my aching limbs to slide out of the covers. I hurriedly throw the required outfit on and step out. Kane meets me instantly, a glint in his eyes.

"What?" I pause, crossing my arms over my chest.

"You really pissed her off," Kane smirks.

"I think all of Panem can see that," I deadpan. I'm not really in the mood for this. "I'm okay with that. I'm sure, over time, Asha will mellow and not want to carve my vocal chords out."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Kane muses, walking alongside me to breakfast. "It must've taken all of her might not to push you from the chariot. She did nothing but grit her teeth. All those potential sponsors? They've disappeared."

I only feel slightly guilty about it. Slightly. I never forced Asha to throw her punches or lash out. I kept my distance as I've always done. She was amusing to watch at first. And then, as I dived into her life, I couldn't pull back until she drove me away. She's as much to blame as I.

Gypsy doesn't say a word as I slide into my seat.

"I'm sorry," I lie, mainly for the sake of peace. "If needs be, Asha can share some of my sponsors," I smile, scooping up some oatmeal.

"Oh, you have none either," Kane scoffs. I do a double-take, staring up at him with amused eyes when, really, I'm screaming on the inside. _Why would I not get any? _I can't help but wonder. "You see, I guess people didn't like it as much as we thought. Asha has zero. You have zero. Unless you dress to impress, so to speak, you're completely on your own, and so is she."

"Because of you," Gypsy sneers.

"Ah, she told you then..." I smile faintly. _Of course she would. I can see too many similarities between the two. _"She probably neglected to mention the finer details, like how I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"She mentioned that you were stalking her," Gypsy narrows her eyes. Behind the small, curly hair and dainty eyes, Gypsy isn't as sweet as she might look. Then again, appearances are often misleading.

I smile lightly, taking a sip of juice. "She's clearly paranoid."

"Multiple occasions," Kane adds, still smiling.

"Paranoia," I reaffirm. "I was as much of a victim as Asha was. I'm awfully sorry about it, I am. But she attacked me, when I was doing nothing wrong but minding my own business. I don't hold it against her."

"How noble of you," Gypsy replies dryly.

I smile it away, indulging myself in the food and drink. I silently chew, watching everyone, before rising from my seat. As I do, Kane scoffs. I laugh lightly in return. They don't know who I am, or what I'm truly capable of. The fact is that I don't have to tell them, either. It's none of their business. Nor Asha's, for that matter.

I start walking towards the elevator. "I'll be taking my leave then."

"Asha, you can come out now!"

I jab the button and silently step inside. As Asha appears, my stomach pulses in guilt. For some reason, I can't look at her. "Die," she mouths silently, looking at me with disgust.

I dip my head away as the door closes, separating us.

I am the reason she is here, after all. The assault no doubt imprinted her for life.

And I wish I pulled back in time. That I had some self-control. I should've only looked for a second, maybe a few, but I was foolish and hung around.

The elevator takes me down slowly. It opens up on Floor Five, allowing Jayce Kenton in, the _5 _etched on his shoulder.

He stands by my side, towering over me. "You're the guy that got punched, right?"

"I am," I say evenly.

"She owned you, man," Jayce smirks, crossing his arms over his hulking frame. "You should really learn to put girls in their place. They're only really good for two things: in the kitchen, or the bedroom."

I nod, stepping away from him. "How misogynistic of you," I smile wryly.

The doors open again, bright lights flooding through. Jayce straightens himself up and steps out, not uttering another word. I silently follow, absorbing my surroundings. It all looks entirely different than I imagined. The stations line every wall, arranged in a peculiar fashion. In the middle of the room, the giant rope trapeze extends to the ceiling above, and partially underneath it, a running track swerves around.

You have everything you could possibly need.

_You can do this. Too many years of playing it safe, playing it careful, only to mess up. Use your knowledge_, I encourage myself, walking forwards.

I can only hope that Asha won't be a problem. If so, I'll have to eliminate that problem.

* * *

**Evangeline Marlowe, District Four Female.**

* * *

"Evangeline!" Douglas calls.

"I need food!" I shout back, dashing out of my room and through the common area. Nerissa gives me a look of disgust as I snatch an apple from the table, before meeting Douglas at the elevator.

"We're going to be late now," Douglas sulks, jabbing the button with his thumb.

"You really love having those panties in a twist, don't you?" I smirk, taking a hefty bite of the apple. I chew quickly and swallow. I don't care if I overslept or whatever, I still want my damn food. I deserve to eat at the very least.

The doors open and Douglas slides in silently, a look of amusement on his face. "That's not the point and you know it," he remarks. "I told you to get ready ages ago."

"I don't do well with authority," I say around another mouthful of apple.

"Even though the Head Peacekeeper is your Dad?"

"Only helps my case really," I laugh, tossing the apple to the side. "Nobody likes listening to their parents. Some hate authority. I guess I got the best of both worlds," I smile ruefully.

"You know, it was your Dad that got me arrested," Douglas smiles wryly. My throat tightens and I look away, feeling slightly ashamed. "Shit, no, I don't blame you or anything," Douglas fumbles over his words, pink dusting his cheeks. "I just thought... it's like bonding, you know? Like, I understand..."

I laugh lightly. Douglas can be a lost cause sometimes. "It's okay. It happened to me, too. I floored his deputy for calling me a girl."

Douglas raises a skeptical eyebrow. "But... you are a girl?"

"Maybe in body, but definitely not mind," I wink, just as the elevator doors open. Harsh light pours through, illuminating Douglas' nerves. "Are you ready?"

"I'm nervous," Douglas admits quietly.

"Why?"

"Everyone will be watching us, analysing us," Douglas takes a deep breath, attempting to calm his nerves.

I smile proudly. This is what I've been waiting. For my moment to shine, to embrace what I've always wanted to do. "Yeah... I can't wait!" I holler, charging out of the elevator and across the barren room.

It doesn't take long to find Cadence and Clarent, the former strikingly pretty compared to the average girl. I move faster, drawn to Cadence's kind aura. When I near, she smiles kindly, only encouraging me further. _I might have a girlfriend, but in a different place and time... definitely_, I smile.

"Morning!" Cadence chirps, smiling down at me. "Where's Douglas?"

I look over my shoulder, confused. He's seemingly vanished.

"Over there with the oddballs," Clarent points. I follow his meaty finger to the edge of the small ring, where Ares and Kaitlin stand, Douglas a few steps away. When he nears, it's apparent that the pair is uncomfortable with his presence.

I guess people are just drawn to different people.

"Douglas is a big boy," I joke, though only Cadence appreciates the dirty joke with a small laugh. "Anyway, we shouldn't worry about him. He probably wants to show camaraderie. He seems fond of Ares, in particular."

Clarent smiles dryly. "Or, he could be plotting against us already."

"Quit being so paranoid, you oaf," Cadence glares, before looking at me with an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that, Evangeline. Clarent probably forgot his manners when he climbed out of his cage this morning."

"Don't worry about it," I wave it away. _He really is a cock._

A few seconds later, the podium slowly rises, a bulky man on top. He stares hardy at everyone behind his golden mane, rising higher and higher. Everyone falls silent. I glance around the room - admiring the difference in culture and expression - before turning back to Cadence because, well, she's hot.

"My name is Maestro," he bellows, voice loud and thick. "In this room, something will save you, and something will kill you. It's your duty to learn as much as you can to prevent it from happening. There are no rules. All previous expectations are abolished. Don't think this will be easy, children. Your murderer is, no doubt, standing only a few steps away from you. It'd be wise to put every ounce of effort into this task."

"No shit," I mutter, eyeing up Clarent to my left. He stands tall and rigid, absorbing every word that Maestro spews.

When Maestro is done telling us about everything, he descends into darkness, and everyone rushes in different directions.

Clarent, however, doesn't move. "Cadence, Evangeline. I suggest that the pair of you head on over to the survival section, and brush up on any plant knowledge that you can find."

"Okay, boss!" Cadence smiles, guiding me away. But as the stations appear, Cadence diverts, pushing me with full force. I stumble a little, unable to hold back the laugh bubbling in my throat.

"Where are we heading?" I ask, amused.

"Like I'm doing what he tells me," Cadence snorts, pushing me towards the middle of the room, where the lengthy rope course ascends up into the rafters. "Don't get me wrong, Clarent is an alright guy, but he's slowly growing an attitude."

"He'll see us, though," I raise an eyebrow.

"If he can remove his head from his ass," Cadence smirks, grabbing the lowest rope. "Are you joining me, or do I have to do it on my lonesome, all sad and stuff?" Cadence playfully pouts. Something in her words - the way she says it, blissful and convincing - only reminds me of Marilla, and in that sense that I could easily follow her anywhere.

I grab the rope. "Don't get pouty, I'll beat you to it!"

Cadence laughs. "Catch me if you can!"

I scramble up the ropes with ease, using my gymnastic background to swing and sail through the course. By the time I reach the top, Cadence is paused, staring up in awe. I smirk, grabbing the bell and slamming it hard. I slip back down through the course, stopping right by Cadence's side.

"You're like a little squirrel," Cadence gushes, puffing up her cheeks in mock impression.

I laugh, enjoying the moment, before noticing the figure below us. Clarent stares up, arms crossed over his chest. "Busted," I whisper.

Cadence spins around, before groaning. "Shit."

We both climb back down. Cadence's smile falters just a little, but it quickly appears as we hit the mat. I smirk, slipping behind her. _This should be interesting,_ I muse.

"How are the plants up there?" Clarent asks, eyes boring into Cadence's skull.

"Oh, you know, the light is better up there... synthesis and that..." Cadence playfully answers, trying to lighten the mood, but Clarent doesn't bite. "I don't want to read up on weeds and dirt, Clarent, and you can't make me."

"I'm hardly forcing you," Clarent answers.

"Yeah, no, you're right," Cadence sighs. "I just wanted to climb the ropes, you know?"

Awkwardly, Cadence walks away. I linger for a moment - Clarent just staring at me with those pervert eyes of his - before I rush to catch her. At the station, Cadence casually flicks the page over, quietly humming to herself.

"Wow," I mouth, completely surprised by her obedient nature just then. It was completely unexpected. "He doesn't own you. You're not an object, Cadence."

"I know," Cadence smiles.

"Don't let him walk all over you then," I frown. If he even tries it with me, I'll twist his testicles until they pop like little bubbles.

Cadence's smile morphs into a smirk. One that oddly makes me smile. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him, right?"

* * *

**Keaton Malloy, District Seven Male.**

* * *

"Would you like some help with that?"

I look up at the trainer. "No, thank you," I smile politely. "I'm only looking for now. Just need to refresh my memory on certain knowledge."

"Look away, my boy. Not many people are too interested in plants nowadays."

Unlike many, I've resigned myself to the fact that I might be alone. I'm not happy nor sad, simply anxious. It's just something that I have to get used to. An ally would be nice - great, even - but there's too many options, too many problems, too many things that could either go really right or really wrong.

I scan through the textbook, reading up about the plants. I barely acknowledge Astrid as she comes barreling over, a smirk on her face.

"How can I help?" I smile, absorbed in the book. It's completely boring, but I might as well save face and read it.

"You need to do more than read, Keaton," Astrid berates, attempting to slam the book shut. "You need to go out there and actually do something! Find someone!"

I doubt Astrid really cares. She's probably more interested in using it to humiliate me later. "The book is interesting," I lie, standing my ground. "You can learn a lot of things from your environment. It'll help."

"Oh, really?" Astrid raises an eyebrow. "Tell me then: when you get stung by stinging nettles, what do you do to stop the itching?"

_Damn_, I internally berate myself. I was reading for the sake of reading, I was reading for the sake of looking like I'm well-educated. I bite my lip. "You... urinate over the mark?"

"That's disgusting," Astrid scowls. "You don't just piss over every little boo-boo, Keaton. You have to find the right plant to counteract it. Seriously, that's vile. Don't do that."

I can't help but blush heavily, as if my skin is on fire. "I... well, you pick your nose."

"But I'm not just going to drop my pants and pee everywhere!" Astrid's voice only grows louder. The trainer stares at me with a bemused look, one that only makes me want to crawl into a hole and just die there. I fumble awkwardly with my thumbs as Astrid suddenly realises her mistake. "Sorry. I forget that I can speak loud, you know? But no. See, reading has done nothing for you. School is a lie."

"Thanks for broadcasting it," I frown, humiliated.

"It seems to have worked," Astrid smirks. "Look behind you."

I turn around, meeting the eyes of Enora Ardley, from District Nine. She giggles behind her mane of curly hair, apparently shy. I smile at that. It's rather cute. Astrid slinks away, proud of herself, as Enora comes forward.

"Hi," I smile, extending my hand.

She waves awkwardly, still beaming. "Enora."

"Um... I'm sorry about Astrid, my district partner," I laugh, scratching the back of my neck. "She was born without a filter, apparently, or any real morals."

"It's okay. It's endearing, really. She's like Silas." Enora only beams further.

"Do you... do you want to join me, like, read the books with me?" I smile.

"Okay!" Enora chirps, rushing forward. She flips open the same book that Astrid slammed shut, scanning the first few lines. "Oh, and it's a dock leaf, by the way," I only look at her with confusion, causing her to laugh. "The stinging nettle thing. You have to rub a dock leaf on it, to curb the itching. My Mother taught me that!"

"I knew that," I lie. "I was just... winding Astrid up. She enjoys proving me wrong."

"That's nice of you," Enora gushes.

"Thanks," I laugh, breathless. My throat suddenly turns dry, unable to form words. I need to impress her, to make her stay a little longer. "I... I can climb trees really fast."

"Can you?" Enora blushes. "They don't have trees in Nine. Not really, anyway. They're all grey and chalky."

"I can show you?" I offer, a little too eager to impress. It's not even to do with Enora, either. I just need company. Company that isn't too mouthy and vivacious as Astrid. And maybe, just maybe, to make an ally. "I mean, it's not hard, but it's nice to have advice from a professional." I smile.

Enora beams. "I'd love to climb!"

Taking the lead, we head for the rope course. I scramble up the first few with ease, before turning back on Enora. "Come on up!" I grin. "The view is great!"

Enora only laughs, hooking her arm awkwardly on the first rope. "It looks dangerous!"

"You just said you'd love it!" I laugh, swinging my arms out. "Just take the leap!"

"Okay!" Enora screams, suddenly releasing her arms and springing upwards. My eyes widen and a shout dies on my tongue as Enora falls down the few ropes, slamming into the mat. She laughs giddily, staring up at me. My shock turns into a nervous laughter as I descend.

"Are you okay?" I yank her up, still unsure. Enora only seems to laugh. "I didn't mean to literally leap backwards," I bite my lip, quickly checking her elbows, lightly grazed.

"Oh," Enora blushes. "You should be more specific next time. Like, tell me to climb, not leap."

"I didn't think you'd not understand," I laugh nervously.

"Oh well!" Enora beams, shrugging it off. "I'm sure that it won't happen again, now I know what your strange vocabulary actually means."

She's a confusing girl, but there's a certain wholesome nature to her that draws me in.

Whilst not particularly useful, she's someone you could trust.

"Enora?" I smile politely, offering my arm for her to loop under. "Would you care to be my ally?"

Rather than accept it, she leaps at me like a frog, wrapping her limbs around me. I stumble back and forth, holding onto her in case she falls again. "Sure!" Enora jumps down, grinning from ear to ear. "We'll make a great alliance."

"We definitely will," I muse.

It all matches perfectly.

* * *

**Soren Chandtara, District Eight Male.**

* * *

Above, a bell chimes loudly, signalling for everyone to stop.

I place the mace back down with a heavy thump, looking up at the trainer. He doesn't look quite impressed. "The maces belong on the rack over there."

"I know," I smirk. "But you see, lunch is calling me, and I'd hate to get sanctioned because I missed out on my food."

"Tribute, I order you to place it back."

"Please," I roll my eyes, kicking the handle so it rolls over, squarely at his feet. "I'm sure you trained years to clean up after tributes, so do your job wisely."

I spin around, but someone grabs my wrist. "Tribute, I order you to place it back!"

Before I know it, I angrily snatch my arm away, spinning back to face him out. My skin erupts in fire as I stare at his visor. "Touch me again, and I'll rip your throat out," I hiss, flexing my knuckles. Now would be a grand time for Benji to talk me down before I slug this jerk.

The trainer slides his visor up, revealing steely, grey eyes. "Do as you're told, runt."

I laugh lightly, eyeing him up, before swinging with all of my might. My knuckles burn as they connect with his helmet. The man falls down like a sack of potatoes. Footsteps drown out my ears as others rush over, calling out my name. I raise my hands up defensively and back up. "I was only doing my wrestling techniques!" I smirk, and each time one of them tries to grab me, I snatch myself free. "I'll be leaving now. I'm rather famished for a runt, you know."

I stalk towards the canteen, ignoring the flamed eyes of everyone who looks at me. Even the Careers eye me up, and if I'm honest, I'd give them the finger, but I don't know how to feel at this moment and that's a bad sign.

I take my tray, my food, and head for the furthest corner, away from everyone else.

I should scream in anger. I should be violent. Instead, I'm torn between my instincts and my desire to not get my family shot for being an idiot.

_Retards_, I think bitterly, looking down at my food. The slop stares back, absolutely disgusting. I push the tray away, no longer interested. When my stomach protests, I push the feelings aside, unable to think of much but the trainer and his shitty attitude.

"Is this seat taken?"

I look up from my food at Astrid Caverly. "Yeah, my imaginary friend is sat there."

"He's taking up all the space. Should tell him to go on a diet," Astrid smirks, sitting down anyway. She stares at me for a few moments, obviously not bothered by whatever my face is doing to her. "You really slugged that trainer down. He must've upset you pretty bad."

"He called me a runt," I answer, unamused. "Not that it's any of your business."

"Runt? Is that it?" Astrid continues to smirk. "You're really touchy then. I've been called much worse, and I don't just deck someone for it."

"What can I say? My fuse is extremely short," I narrow my eyes, trying to put the point across. Whether it does or not, Astrid doesn't let it show.

"I'd say that you're on your period, but do runts get them?"

I bite down on my tongue. _She's a girl. You're nice to girls, even if they are pissing annoying_, I remind myself. "I wouldn't know."

"I can definitely smell the testosterone oozing from your zits," Astrid says around a mouthful of drool, before grabbing a piece of pink meat with her finger. "I like what you did, though. It was very... manly of you."

"If you're hitting on me, you're not my type. I don't date animals," I grimace, watching as she shoves it into her mouth, sauce running down the sides. If I wasn't hungry before, I'm definitely not now.

"You're too skinny for me," Astrid waves it away. The word, however, seems to pulsate in my head. "What I was after, however, was a simple alliance. I thought about you as a candidate. Well, that's a lie, but every pitch needs a good sale, doesn't it?"

I just stare at her. Is she serious? Behind the rudeness, the disgusting habits, and she wants me to spend more time with her? Astrid is clearly delusional. "Yeah, I'll pass," I snort. "I'd rather take my chances alone than deal with your breath for much longer."

"It's like you have multiple volcanoes on your face!"

"Leave my table," I growl.

"I can't, your imaginary friend is squishing me," Astrid teases. "Look, don't be a dick. I doubt anyone will ally with you. You're hardly a looker and that volatile, bad boy attitude makes people cringe, if I'm honest. You have little to no options."

I narrow my eyes. "You're not an option."

"Let me prove it to you?" Astrid smiles, much more honest than before, even if there are pieces of food stuck between her teeth.

"Why are you so concerned in trying to make me ally with you? Have you been rejected by everyone else on appearance alone?" I bite.

"Because no-one else wants you..." Astrid pauses. "And no-one else will want me."

I smile a little. "Band together because we're rejects?"

"As if we have any other choice," Astrid scoffs. "Your volcanic zits and my breath will apparently keep them all away."

"I don't know," I shake my head.

"One day," Astrid offers. "And if your zits annoy me that much, I'll walk away."

"Stop talking about my zits," I groan. _This is definitely a terrible idea. But how can I say no now? Well, pretty easily, but her words have hit home a little too hard for my liking. Am I capable enough on my own? _"Will you shut up if I accept?"

"Sure," Astrid smiles.

"Then fine. But I have one condition," I smirk.

"Which is?"

"Brush your teeth tonight," I smile.

* * *

**Farryn Lore, District Three Female.**

* * *

When I know that everyone has left, I finally rise from my seat.

_I feel like a droplet in an ocean_, I think, sliding the tray onto the rack. Despite every fear that knots my limbs together, I slowly enter the Training Centre again, trying to focus on something else. I need to think for the future, as much as it scares me. I have to prepare myself for it all.

The first few stations are easy. I silently memorize all of the plants, connecting the dots on the screen. The vital organs on the animals isn't hard to remember, despite the sickening detail they place into it. Everything that isn't physical, I excel in.

Mentality won't save me.

The sight of the running course has me frozen in place. I lace my fingers together and approach the trainer.

"Excuse me?" I mumble, not catching her attention. She only continues to play with her nails. "Um... excuse me?"

She finally looks. "Oh," she mouths. "Can I help you?"

"I'd like to run the track, please," I smile shakily. My heart races in my chest as she jabs a button, and the machinery comes to life. "Thank you," I murmur, stepping up onto the starting podium.

But, something stops me from taking the leap.

Seconds feel like minutes. I can't peel my eyes away from it.

"You have to move," the trainer commands.

I step forward, but quickly retract it. "I'm sorry," I frown, quickly hopping off and rushing away, cheeks burning and chest thumping.

Confused and sick, I head back to safety - to the computers.

Knowing that no-one is watching, I swiftly slide through the first few rounds, lost in thought and focus that I don't notice someone sliding up by me.

"You're really good at this," Arden Novelle breathes, impressed.

"I'm good at any electronic," I admit quietly, proud of my abilities. "Sorry," I apologise, looking back at the screen.

"Don't be," Arden grins, extending her hand to me. "I'm Arden."

"Farryn Lore," I smile politely, accepting her shake.

"So, Farryn, could you teach me to be as good as you?"

"Probably not," I smile softly. "But I could help you become a novice at it."

I step to the side, allowing Arden access to the computer. However, it becomes apparent that Arden won't even become a novice at it. After the first two questions prove to be wrong, Arden angrily guesses the third, which only proceeds to lock her out of the entire quiz.

"Piece of crap," Arden growls, slamming her palm down onto the screen.

I laugh lightly. "I'm sure if you tried again, it might work," I smile. "I'll help you this time."

"Nah, I'm okay," Arden waves it away. "Computers just aren't my thing. Being from Three, I can only assume that you spend every waking second on one?"

"Not necessarily," I frown, slightly offended.

"I don't have much to do with Five's trademark. Solar power is all the rage at the moment, but it's lost on me. We don't even get that much nice weather to begin with," Arden laughs, before pausing, staring at me with interest. "You have nice hair, you know."

I shyly tuck a strand behind my ear. "Thank you," I blush. "I like your hair, too. It's a nice colour."

"The Capitol has ruined it, but thanks for lying," Arden winks. "I couldn't help but notice your... explosive outfits, during the chariots," I cringe at the remembrance of it. Lanuel's push only pushed them in the wrong direction. "Did you see my headpiece? I looked like a starfish."

"It looked nice," I smile, much more at ease than I expected. I had resigned myself to being forgotten, but it's nice to know that someone took an interest in me. "Windmills was... very creature," I lie. _It really wasn't_.

Me and Arden fall into a quiet conversation on trivial stuff. The more we talk, the more I feel at ease, and not so sick. I manage to slouch a little and not look so tense.

"You look so invested in this conversation," Arden laughs.

I blush, edging back a little. "It's a bad habit," I admit. "I mainly do it out of social etiquette," I smile. "My brother told me that it was the easiest way to make people like you."

"He's a wise man!" Arden smiles, but it quickly falls as she looks at something behind me. I turn around, just as Jayce Kenton passes us. "Not suffocated on your own shit yet, Jayce?"

"Not dead yet, Arden?" Jayce shoots, smirking. "Nice ally, too. She looks like a twig."

I tense at his words, looking down at my body. _I have no real chance_, I think bitterly, brief reminders of the running track just minutes ago.

Arden only gives him the middle finger in response. "Bite me."

Jayce winks. "I'll make sure to remember that when I come after you."

Arden scowls as he walks away. Unlike Lanuel and I, it's apparent that neither of them seem to like each other. I'd ask, but it feels rude to snoop.

"Sorry about that," Arden apologizes. "Jayce is a royal pain. Life would be easier without him," Arden steps forward. "But, he did bring up a good point."

"That I'm a twig?" I smile sadly, looking down at the ground.

Arden's eyes widen. "Oh no, don't give Jayce that sort of satisfaction. No, I mean about the ally. He called you my ally. He beat me to it with his pointless words, but would you like to be my ally? I like you, Farryn. You seem wholesome."

"I... I don't know what to say," I smile, unsure of whether I'm happy or confused. "I'd... I'd love to be your ally," I beam, like a weight has been lifted off of my chest.

"Great!" Arden grins. "Now, we need just one more person!"

Despite the nerves, I still smile. "I can't wait."

* * *

**Valera Saffel, District Eight Female.**

* * *

"Are you using that?"

I turn to the loud, irritating voice to my left. Cadence Halsey stands there, smiling sweetly as if butter wouldn't melt. I eye her and then the piece of coil on the table. "Does it look like I'm using that?" I retaliate, slightly peeved.

"I was just being sure!" Cadence smiles, snatching it with both hands. "You're from District Eight, right?"

"I see you can read," I smile wryly, trying to dig deeper into my work and not on her.

"I bet you have access to a lot of clothes," Cadence sighs dreamily. "I would love to have all that at my disposal. District One is boring, full of mines and fancy things."

"Must suck to be you," I murmur, looping the wire around the metal ring. _Will she just leave already? She's starting to really bug me_, I frown.

After a moment of silence, Cadence sighs. "I can see that you're busy... I'll come back another time."

As she walks away, I look up. "Don't rush."

Finally free, I push myself to finish up the device. It seems to take forever before the trainer steps in, showing me once more with irritating enthusiasm. He makes a big, dramatic show about how I did it all wrong and it would've blew up in my face, before I can't take no more and simply abandon the entire project at hand.

I move aimlessly through the stations, attempting to find peace. I really, really don't care for these other people. I've only spoke to Soren and he's a bitter disappointment, all slimy and explosive.

In the end, I settle back at the same station.

"You left so abruptly. I was sad."

"I needed to clear my head," I grumble, trying to ignore him once more. He's so damn chatty. I grab the same ingredients and attempt it once more. After the third fail, the trainer is practically laughing his head off.

"I told you to loop with ease, not like you're tying a noose!" he laughs obnoxiously.

_I'd love to tie a noose just for you_, I grumble, mentally blocking him out. I won't let him push me away. I will complete this stupid, ridiculous, pathetic task so that I can go on my merry way away from him, knowing that I succeeded on my own.

As the fourth time blows up in my face, I step back.

"It's broken," I complain quietly.

"I just don't think that mechanics is quite your thing."

"I don't think teaching is yours, either," I mumble bitterly. "Do you have anything else to try?"

"Try another station, love."

"I can make my own mind up," I narrow my eyes. I hate feeling like a failure. I step away and the man turns his back. In that moment, I swiftly snatch the items into my hand and silently scurry away. I don't get far before a trainer catches me, snatching the items back.

His dark, aloof eyes bore into mine. "Follow the damn rules, tribute."

"I wanted to test it in peace," I argue, looking away.

"You wanted to create an explosive to harm the other tributes. I know your type, criminal. It's like an addiction to you."

_You're an idiot_, I stare at him silently. He taps his foot, clearly waiting for an answer. But I don't give him one. He's painfully ignorant to the fact that it's a device to purify water, judging me on my past alone. I turn around, walking away without a word.

"What happened?" Cadence's voice echoes.

I turn to her. "Nothing," I deadpan. _Seriously, what does she want? She'll either be my murderer or my victim. She doesn't need to win a freaking award on being a suck-up beforehand._

"Okay," Cadence smiles sadly. "If you need to talk, you come find me, okay?"

"You're a Career," I raise an eyebrow.

"By birth, but that's hardly the point," Cadence winks. "We can all be civil to each other for now."

"For now. Until someone stabs me, you mean," I roll my eyes. Does she live in the clouds? I smell psychological problems. A trained murderer cannot be this deluded.

Sensing an issue, Cadence retreats with a smile. Somehow, I just know that she'll be back. She seems like the type that won't quit until she buries herself under my skin, like a parasite. Maybe she's after some information, like trying to determine my weaknesses.

I guess I'm judging her, like he judged me.

Oh well. Being a hypocrite is surely better than being a murderer.

After a while, I leave for the weapons, parrying with a dummy that just won't fall down. Nicholas Carson of District Twelve is soon beside me, silently doing the same. His presence makes me squirm, but at least he has the rightful attitude to keep quiet.

The spears are harder than they look, and after four attempts to do a bullseye, I angrily quit.

"You don't move your wrist enough."

"Does everyone like talking to the competition or something?" I spin around at the voice, meeting Lanuel Nox.

"Someone isn't a people-person then," Lanuel smirks.

"I'm not a tribute-person," I mutter, looking away.

"You wasn't bending your wrist enough."

"Is there an art to tossing a stick across the room?" I cross my arms defensively.

"It's a flick," Lanuel smiles. "Like swishing a paintbrush across the canvas. There's a certain method to madness, they say."

_I wonder where he learnt to twist his wrist so well...? _I muse, a smile creeping on my face. I still can't look at him, though. I'm growing tired of the competition trying to become my chum, and unfortunately, Lanuel is the nearest one to face my annoyance.

Do these people not understand what they have to do in the Hunger Games? Are they all kidding themselves, making friends and alliances, only to break them?

"Did you want something?" I ask quietly, finally sparing him a glance.

"Not particularly," Lanuel blinks, slightly taken aback. "I just wanted to tell you how to do it properly."

"I'll remember that for when I have a spear in my hand and I see you in an open field," I smile dryly, quickly walking away before he can think about retaliating. Whilst I feel guilty for a moment, the reality check quickly puts me back into place.

I'm in the Hunger Games. Death. Pain. All that fun, Capitol stuff.

These people need to hurry and learn that this isn't a classroom. When that bell rings, it's fight or flight. And I'll be doing whatever I can to ensure that I make it out alive.

And if anyone gets in my way, I won't hesitate to cut them down.

* * *

**Ares Baskaus, District Two Male.**

* * *

From the safety of the sowing station, I watch as Cadence and Evangeline playfully engage in a duel. Each girl is equal in prowess, but Cadence has that swift advantage. One false move, and with a swift flick of her hands, Evangeline hits the mat below.

"You should join them," I mumble to Kaitlin, just a little away from me.

She shakes her head. "I'd rather not."

"We have to interact with them, Kaitlin," I bite my lip. "I'll do it if you will."

"I don't like any of them," Kaitlin answers, mindlessly spinning the needle on the table.

"They're trying, though," I sigh. "We look horrible when we don't respond in kind."

Once more, Kaitlin shakes her head. "Not as if we're in the place to make friends, Ares. Everyone wants to win. Everyone will betray each other at some point."

"Including you?" I laugh lightly, but it's a definite question. Kaitlin talks to me and me alone. Does that signify a hidden alliance between us, or even a truce?

"Including me," Kaitlin smiles faintly. "I'm going to train. Do as you want."

Left alone as Kaitlin heads towards the katanas, I turn, indulging myself in the comforts of sowing. The trainer seems in awe as I swiftly complete the patchwork set in front of me. The years of stitching people up have helped me out a lot.

"Where did you learn such craftsmanship?"

I blush, trying to hide the redness blossoming on my cheeks. "I'm a medic at home. For trainees, I mean."

"You're a natural."

"Thank you," I smile kindly, handing him the equipment, before a large hand clamps down on my shoulder hard. I stagger forward a little, surprised by the strength. Behind me, Douglas beams, curls slick against his forehead.

"Come spar with me," Douglas breathes, flustered and pink.

The thought makes me sick to my stomach. "Maybe tomorrow," I smile wryly. "I really want to brush up on some medic training first."

"Really?" Douglas raises an eyebrow. "That sounds awesome. You like to stitch people up then?"

"Not particularly," I laugh lightly. "But I can do it, if that's what you mean. It's a useful tool to know."

"Is that why you were chosen, because of your survival skills?"

_I was chosen because of Aeneas' mistake_, I think bitterly, _and a whole lot of drama to coincide with it. _ "I guess," I lie, finding a small amount of comfort in Douglas' presence. "I can teach you, if you want? Sowing up a wound, I mean. It could be crucial."

Swiftly, Douglas abandons his weapons, showing a small cut on the ridge of his palm. "Work your magic," he smiles.

I take the equipment and set to work. It doesn't take long, not that a cut ever does. When I sneak a glance at Douglas' eyes, they're full of wonder and concentration, mapping out every movement I make. No-one has ever bothered to make that much effort with me before. Aeneas always stole the show.

"You're fixed," I smile, placing everything down.

"As good as new!" Douglas grins.

"It was only a small cut," I point out, briefly watching Kaitlin over his shoulder, eyeing me curiously. "It'll be different if the wound was greater, or the situation was different, like tropical downpours and blistering heat."

"You know a lot," Douglas seems impressed. "I wish I had the motivation to learn and study. I find it easier to do practical experience first, textbook stuff after."

"Odd way of doing something."

The pair of us turn to Clarent's arrival. His dark features only seem to stare down at me, and I immediately shrink into myself.

"It's always worked for me," Douglas continues, eyeing Clarent up. "Who needs rationality when creativity trumps it?"

Clarent smirks. "I suppose so. Have you found your ideal weapon yet?"

"Sword," Douglas answers quickly. "And Ares has decided on a sword too, haven't you, Ares?"

"Yeah..." I smile, confused and tense. Why was he so quick to answer for me? "...I just wanted to test other things, too."

"Perfectly reasonable," Clarent smiles briefly, before the brooding, stony expression returns. "We're having a meeting tomorrow, to discuss roles and positions in the alliance. I want the pair of you to be prepared, if that's okay with you both?"

"You can count on us!" Douglas slings an arm around my shoulders, pulling me roughly into his side. "I'll be sure to train Ares right."

Having pleased him, Clarent walks away, sword perched over his shoulders. Out of earshot, Douglas grumbles.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"He's rather pompous, don't you think?" Douglas frowns. "It was cool at first. He had that whole attitude to him, like a dark aura, but it's really wearing thin. Nobody likes a demanding leader."

Kaitlin doesn't like him either, but she doesn't like anyone, apparently. When Clarent stares at me, I only see my Father and Aeneas and the thick, dark shadow that often swallows me whole. As long as he's around, I won't ever feel truly comfortable.

"Did you want to go spar?"

"Not yet," I avoid it, smiling shakily. "I'd rather perfect this first."

"You've pretty much done that," Douglas raises an eyebrow.

"Not yet," I turn around, knot tight in my stomach as I repeat the same process over again, knowing it exactly. Douglas takes the cruel hint and leaves me alone.

Away from everyone, I don't feel the pressure or the fear. I feel free. I just want that, and that alone. To be free forever. It'll take a long time before I can accomplish that.

I just hope I can accomplish it eventually, before it's too late.

* * *

**Kaitlin Garrett, District Two Female.**

* * *

I move with ease around the course, katana held firmly in my hand. As each dummy appears, I strike and slice, leaving a trail of red feathers in my wake. The only sound I hear is my own heartbeat in my ears, and the muted thud of decapitated limbs hitting the floor behind me.

An alarm rings in my ear. I pause, looking up at the timer. In a matter of one minute, my death toll is only at sixteen.

That's even lower than before.

I move back to the start, slamming my fist onto the button. The floor swallows the destroyed toys and replaces them with ease. The alarm rings, and I rush through, intent on perfecting my motions.

When the alarm rings a second time, the death count is at seventeen, an improvement by one.

"Your score is rather impressive for someone of your age and stature," the trainer remarks, clearing the board. "You move as if that katana is an extension of your arm."

"It basically is," I answer shortly, pushing back the short, callous ends of my hair from my eyes.

"How long have you wielded it?"

"For as long as I've been over here," I answer, confused.

"I meant in years," he laughs.

"Six," I recall the memory fondly, caught red-handed trying to place it back into the Training Centre without being caught. Of course, I was, but they were light about it: I gained my scholarship with childish desire to hold something destructive in my hands, just for a second.

"Not a lot of training for impressive skills as your own."

"I suppose," I shrug. Behind the trainer, Ares is finally alone, having been engrossed in a conversation with Douglas. He looks at ease, which is surprising, considering Ares is either blushing like a fool, stammering over his words, or silently tense. "I want to try one more ti-"

The bell cuts me up. The trainer smiles, pushing a button that swallows his station and equipment.

"Is it over?" I ask, confused once more. That was hardly worth it. For the outliers, three days just won't be enough time to learn to survive.

"You'll have more time," the trainer smiles.

I silently place the katana back and watch as it, too, disappears. Without it, I feel lost.

"Hey, Kaitlin!" Cadence's voice breaks the peaceful silence. The pair of them - Evangeline lingering at her side - stand by the elevator, beckoning me over. Ares' words resound in my mind and, politely, I accompany them. "Did you do a lot today?"

"I trained," I smile faintly, trying to follow Ares' guidelines. I shouldn't care. I don't, well, not really, anyway. But Ares has a point about bigging it all up. I have to make it look good, even if that part of the Hunger Games will always escape me.

"I beat Evangeline up the ropes," Cadence smirks, before bursting out into a fit of giggles.

"She did not," Evangeline shakes her head, laughing. "She barely made it up there. She's like a lame dog, unable to get her ass off the floor all that much!"

"You can talk! You're like a little chipmunk, in looks and ability!"

The pair continue to tease each other until the door opens onto Floor One. Cadence hugs Evangeline briefly - and attempts to do the same to me, though I awkwardly escape it - before exiting. Alone with Evangeline, the silence quickly drowns out all hope of comfort.

"So..." Evangeline trails. "Douglas and Ares are getting close, huh? I think they're secretly doing it behind the running course."

"They'd be seen," I shoot down her rumors.

"Yeah, I suppose."

The doors open again. I step out, unsure of how to say goodbye to Evangeline, before the doors fix the problem and shut.

"That was just uncomfortable to watch," Jezabel remarks, coolly looking over the top of the couch. "And you couldn't even be bothered to wait for Ares? Shame on you, Kaitlin."

"Is Ajax about?" I deadpan. Jezabel is as bad as Cadence, irritating in their different ways.

"He's out," Jezabel smiles wickedly. Behind, the doors open again, Ares stepping out. "Did you want Ajax, too?"

"No...?"

"I'm heading to bed," I retreat, but Ares follows, intent on wanting on something. I pause at my bedroom door, turning to him. "What did you want?"

"I saw you get into the elevator with Cadence and Evangeline," Ares smiles. "I'm glad that you're trying, Kait, I really am."

"Personally, I don't see any point in making friends in a death match for one, but I can see your logic, too. It looks better to the audience. They either want a rivalry or camaraderie."

"Yeah," Ares raises an eyebrow, looking smaller in the dark light. It's sad, but Evangeline could probably floor him with ease. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He disappears quickly, leaving behind a trace of tension. Confused and tired, I slip into my bedroom and lock the door, careful to be silent as I prepare for bed.

As long as I can focus, I can do it. They're not humans. Not tributes. They're dummies, obstacles placed in the face of my goal.

That's how I have to see it in order to kill them.

* * *

**The blog for this story is_ onlyhuman hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

* * *

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

**_Thoughts on these eight tributes?_**

**_Favourite POV?_**

**_Out of the remaining tributes, who else are you interested in hearing from?_**

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**And here are the next bunch! Levitt, Evangeline, Keaton, Soren, Farryn, Valera, Ares and Kaitlin.**

**Next up is Training Day Two. More alliances and plots to come, so yeah. This story is turning out really well. These characters are fun!**

******As always, I'll keep a small list at the bottom here for confirmed alliances, ones that won't be edited (they can only grow): VectusxInari, KeatonxEnora, SorenxAstrid, FarrynxArden. Everyone else is either unconfirmed or searching. Not everything can happen on the first day! **


	6. Babel

**Babel by Mumford & Sons.**

* * *

**Babel.**

_'Cause I know that time has numbered my days, and I'll go along with everything you say._

* * *

**Inari Wilder, District Six Female.**

* * *

I'm already awake before the sun ascends over the city. I'm a creature of habit, perhaps. Sunrise usually meant a day full of cutthroats, drug addicts and criminals, desperate to get their hands on my shipment.

_It's something I can apply, I suppose_, I muse, slipping into the training outfit.

Out of the door, it's apparent that the air is tense. Aston never returned last night. Silently, I enter the main area, where Sansa sits at the table, slumped over her breakfast.

She looks up, a weary smile on her face. "Morning, Inari."

"Morning," I smile faintly, sitting down opposite her. The question about Aston's whereabouts dies on my tongue. Sansa looks too emotional to answer it, and I don't want to pile on more pressure.

"Why are you up so early then?" Sansa asks, still smiling.

"A bad habit," I look away, filling up a bowl of cereal. "I presume that Vectus is still asleep?"

"Not anymore," Vectus' voice booms. I look over my shoulder, glancing over his attire. Despite the apparent look of exhaustion in his eyes, Vectus looks like he spent hours on his appearance. "I was woken up by some birds. Not even real ones. I think my alarm clock is suppose to be a metaphor, but it only annoyed me."

"It's to reflect the districts," Sansa smiles sadly. "The Capitol want you to feel at home."

"I left for a reason," Vectus rolls his eyes, sliding into the seat next to me. "What's up with you then?"

"Nothing," I frown, looking back at my food. "I was analysing some of the information I learned yesterday."

"Looks painful," Vectus smirks.

"I think we should try more weapons today," I mutter, trying to distance myself from the reality of murder. I've done some pretty awful things, but murder is beyond my repetoire. I suppose it had to come up eventually.

"Fine by me," Vectus shrugs nonchalantly. "If anything, we should've tried weapons yesterday. I want to be able to defend myself before I learn to heal wounds."

I stare at him, slightly offended. "You were the one who told me to pick."

"Yeah, that worked well," Vectus smirks.

Vectus isn't much. He's hardly anything, really. But the fear of being alone - the little black dot that pulsates on my brain - tells me that I've already done it. I've already found someone, an ally. I don't have to be on my own. It's not all of my responsibility.

And despite Vectus hardly being anything, it's enough.

"We'll do what you want today," I smile faintly. "I don't mind. As long as we're being productive, I'm okay with whatever. The more we learn, the easier our time will be."

"You're so accepting," Vectus says sarcastically. "Anyway, would someone like to tell me where Aston is?"

Sansa sucks in a sharp breath. "...I haven't seen him recently."

Deep down, Sansa does know. I can see it in her eyes, the way she holds herself this morning. It isn't pretty. Or at least, she doesn't like the idea of it. I hope Aston isn't in trouble. District Six is already dark. Another Victor dead, and chaos would erupt. People are looking for an excuse to revolt, break the laws, murder and maim and steal and fight.

I've met those people. I've dealt with them.

District Six is at their breaking point.

"I'm sure he's fine," I smile shyly, trying to end the conversation.

"Whatever," Vectus rises. "Are you coming now or later, Inari?"

I look at Sansa - at the morose pit in her eyes - before rising silently. I follow Vectus to the elevator, inside, and watch as the doors shut us in. In the safety of the small room, I finally let out a deep breath.

"What is it?" Vectus asks, not remotely concerned.

"Aston won't be around, I don't think," I breathe. "Sansa isn't a convincing liar."

Vectus hums. "I suppose it makes sense. You can obviously read her like a book."

"I've always needed to," I smile faintly.

"I know. I know the people you deal with," Vectus says sharply. "Most of them were my customers, after all. Levi just doesn't know how to share."

"I told you that part of my life is over," I answer. _And I won't kid myself, either. It's not over because I left, but over because I was ripped away. Levi would rather sooner see me dead than abandon his project._

"Oh, I don't blame you. If anything, I'm jealous. If only you found me sooner. With me, you wouldn't have been caught so easily," Vectus says, completely emotionless. "...if you ignore the fact that someone traded me in. But that's neither here nor there at the moment."

I was one of Levi's best runners. One mistake - the wrong person and time - and it was a slippery slope to the bottom... and I'd be lying if I said I wanted to climb back up. I didn't. I wanted to stay there and keep safe. But money and corruption dragged me back into it.

With Vectus, would it have been any different?

"What weapons do you want to use?" I ask, just as the doors open.

"Anything that kills easily," Vectus shrugs nonchalantly.

And sadly, it's not that much different to home.

* * *

**Zora Hudgens, District Ten Female.**

* * *

"I don't understand," I raise an eyebrow, staring at the coated man behind the station. "Why would creating knots ever save my life?"

It's the same argument that I had with the trainer over by the hammocks, and the one that wants you to fashion little hooks and cuffs. Some of these stations are basically pointless.

"I'll spell it out to you for the hundredth time," the trainer groans. "You could need it for trees, or for climbing, or for hunting! You're not suppose to just whack each other until one person is left standing!"

"That's basically what the Hunger Games is," I shake my head. "Do you live under a hideously-coloured rock like the rest of the imbeciles around here?"

"If you don't like my knots, then leave," he snarls.

I shrug nonchalantly. "Sorry. Only trying to keep you in business, just in case that knot becomes a noose," I wink, quickly walking away before I face another repercussion from my loose tongue. Yesterday, it was a chat. Tomorrow, it'll be a discussion. Harm me? Far too cruel in their eyes, not when I'm a prized pig for the cut.

I meander around the nearest stations, barely glancing at anything that doesn't catch my attention. The weapons are intimidating and practically owned by the Careers. Every other station might as well be void.

I'm left to either run or climb.

But looking at the structure of the ropes - occupied by two tributes - I'm left with the other option.

"Can I run?" I ask the woman.

"I don't know, can you?"

"If you stop staring at your nails and removed your head from your behind, you'd see that I can," I smile, tilting my head with curiosity. "Do they often place the stupid people on stations that require only one button?"

Angrily, the woman slams her finger onto the button. I mockingly bow, before stepping up onto the small podium. As the black track whirls, I take a deep breath and leap. My feet hit hard and I struggle to keep up with the speed. _Witch must've put it on a fast setting_, I quickly deduce, struggling to stay upright. After a brief lap, I jump off, scowling at the woman.

"Was it too fast for a little kid like you?"

"Yeah, but really, you had one job to do and you blew it. Seems like stupid people can't even press a button," I sneer, walking away once more. Capitolites seem to enjoy placing us under the thumb, as if we could never reach their great height. On our own, districts have sustained themselves enough to continue generations.

Without us, the Capitol would just be starving, clothless clowns. Much more of an improvement.

In the end, I stay by the last station in the row, dedicated to fire-making. The trainer - an old, greyish man - doesn't seem to mind, silently twiddling his thumbs.

"We should try and make a fire, Arden. It's more practical than knots."

I look up at the voices. Farryn Lore and Arden Novelle walk over, apparent allies. They spare me a glance before stopping at the station. The man eagerly hands them the equipment, and sitting down on the floor, the girls attempt to make the fire.

"Can't we just bang rocks? I'm sure I've seen it happen before," Arden frowns.

"A spark would take too long," Farryn answers. "If you used an accelerant, then it'd be alight in no time. I know some plants that could easily act as one."

"Yeah, or petrol," I scoff. Arden snaps her head around, hazel eyes scowling at me. "Just thought I'd share some of my knowledge."

"Well don't," Arden narrows her eyes. "How old are you anyway, like five?"

"How old are you, like eighty?" I bite back.

Arden's scowl eases away, and a seemingly bright smile replaces it. "I suppose you can join us."

"I wasn't looking," I wave it away. The pair of them are hardly formidable. They both look sweet, good-natured, and honestly, when has that ever helped someone to survive the Hunger Games?

Arden stands up. "Oh, are we not to your taste? I didn't think you had one," Arden smiles wickedly, offering her hand. "You can join us. I don't mind. We need a third ally, and I suppose that you'll have to do. Unless you have other offers, that is."

"There's an entire line," I smirk. "But thank you for building my self-esteem. Amazing work for the future generation."

"It'd be nice to have you," Farryn mumbles, smiling kindly at me. It's quickly apparent that the pair balance each other out, sweet and quiet compared to obnoxious and loud.

Due to the apparent kindness, I silently sit down, watching the pair. I know their names, but do they know mine?

"I'm Arden, and this is Farryn," Arden introduces. "You're Zora, District Ten, right?"

"I'm impressed you knew."

"I just read your shoulder," Arden winks.

"That was sarcasm," I wink back, gaining a laugh from the pair of them. The light atmosphere eases my doubts about them. Neither of them are bad girls. If you look past the initial flaws - mainly Arden - then you could salvage something great.

"We need to know more about you," Arden deduces.

"I hate the Capitol," I smile. "I was done for slander. Multiple offences, too."

"Oh," Farryn mouths. "So you spoke out about the Capitol more than once?"

"Definitely," I proudly say. "They don't own us. We owe them nothing. They started a war, slaughtered thousands, forced us into practical slavery, and then still wants us to participate in their twisted fetishes. Each time that we try and create our own voice, they murder us."

Arden looks intrigued. "Have you ever made a difference, though?"

"Not yet," I shrug. "One voice won't change anything. If everyone stood together, it'd be different."

"I'm sure it's more complicated than that," Farryn frowns.

"We'd never know unless we tried," I answer. "And we can't try because there are too many people who would rather sit down and shut up."

The pair only seem confused now. It doesn't matter, I suppose. Even in the unlikely chance that I would win, I wouldn't be allowed a voice. I'd be their object, their possession.

Panem is messed up.

* * *

**Clarent Tarbeck, District One Male.**

* * *

The Careers are gathered together.

I walk over, fully intent on getting them to stop slacking off and to start making a difference, when I notice Cadence in a peculiar position.

"Cadence, what are you actually doing?"

"I'm stretching," Cadence answers innocently, bending over to touch her toes. Douglas and Evangeline follow her movements with lustful eyes and twitchy smiles. "Why, what do you think I'm doing?"

"Making a scene, yearning for attention," I answer honestly.

Cadence feigns hurt. "I'm appalled that you would suggest that! Of course I am!"

"Stop fooling around. We have work to do."

"You're so tense. You should loosen up. I know some perfect positions that I could get you into," Cadence purrs, attempting to lighten the mood with her prowess.

"You can teach me!" Douglas quickly adds.

I raise my hand. "We won't be doing that. I need you to act serious, Cadence, if you could for once. We only have today and tomorrow to perfect everything. I am not going into that arena with a bunch of people who don't know what they're doing."

I don't want to be mean about it. Or a total dick, for that matter. But this is serious. If they get stabbed, they'll die. If they make one false move, they'll die. Why volunteer if you're only going to mess around and act as if it's one huge adventure?

"Chill, Clarent," Douglas frowns. "You'll burn out."

"I'm perfectly fine," I ignore him. He's almost as bad as Cadence. The only one who isn't being ridiculous is Kaitlin, not that I should be surprised considering her overwhelming enthusiasm and charisma. "Ares," I turn to face him. "Come with me to the swords."

"He doesn't have to listen to you, you know," Evangeline intercepts.

I spin around to face her. Despite the small frame, she tries to bulk herself up. "Excuse me?"

"He has a mind of his own. I'm sure that, if Ares wanted to swordfight, he would."

"Rather ballsy of you to point out, Evangeline," I narrow my eyes. "Are you insinuating something?"

"She is," Cadence smiles, standing by her new friend. "You're being controlling, Clarent. And dominant. We need room to breathe and feel respected, not have you breathing down our necks all the time."

"I'm trying to help us all," I retaliate, feeling defensive. Why am I being painted out to be so damn cruel? "I'm not trying to be evil about it. I'm trying to show you that, with the way you're going, you'll know nothing to benefit you in the long run."

Cadence steps forward. Even with the apparent tension, she still smiles. "Everyone here is an adult. I'm sure we can make our own decisions."

"Are you sure? Because you're the most childish of them all," I bite back, venom on my tongue that I instantly regret. Cadence's face falls. "...I'm sorry."

"Who even elected you as leader?" Evangeline snarls. "I don't remember voting '_Douchebag_' when we were asked."

"It was suitable," I answer coolly. "Did you want to lead us, Evangeline? You're more than welcome to. It's no picnic trying to ensure that everyone plays a vital part in the whole team, not with Kaitlin's lack of communication, Cadence's lack of morality, and your lack of... well, anything!"

"Oh, so now we're being sexist?" Evangeline flares up. Cadence tries to cool her, but it falls on deaf ears. Ares flinches, comforted by Douglas, whilst Kaitlin is impassive to every word. "What about Ares being a total doormat? Or you being an utter twat?"

"So I'm being sexist, when you wouldn't dare breathe a bad word against Douglas? Don't be a hypocrite, Evangeline. It doesn't suit you." I glower. _I have every right mind to boot her out, leave her on her own. But I'm not stupid. Cadence will follow, so would Douglas. _

"I say that we vote," Evangeline bites. "We'll elect a proper leader."

"As if that's possible," I roll my eyes. It's pointless. Every word annoys me when it shouldn't. Evangeline seems to know how to push all of my buttons.

"I think Cadence should be our leader," Evangeline states, shocking Cadence the most. "Who else agrees?"

Evangeline raises her hand. After a moment of hesitation, Cadence gleefully joins her. That small gesture cuts all ties, Cadence's way of separating herself from me. Slowly but surely, with a little encouragement from Cadence, Kaitlin surprisingly joins in. I doubt my truths made Kaitlin want to stay anyway.

Ares and Douglas, on the other hand, aren't as quick.

All eyes fall on Ares. Douglas looks at him - at me, at Evangeline, at Cadence - before locking eyes with Ares once more. The thinner boy doesn't nothing but tense, frozen on the spot, pale in the face.

I step forward a little. Ares has always been sorta weak. I nudge him a little, which seems to make him shrink into himself more. "I promise to look out for you," I offer politely, attempting to retain some loyalty.

"Don't bribe him," Cadence accuses. "Ares, sweetie, do what you want."

"I..." Ares blanches, eyes frozen on me. "...I vote Clarent."

Everyone looks at Douglas now, but he's more focused on Ares, a worried look on his face. After a few moments, he sighs. "I vote Clarent, too."

It surprises everyone, but more importantly, it surprises me. I never would've assumed that Douglas would choose me over his wet dreams.

"Douglas..." Evangeline sounds betrayed. A small, satisfied smirk soon graces my face.

"It's... the logical choice," Douglas answers.

"We're tied now," I state proudly. "So, what we do now? Cadence and I can't both be leader. That's a proven failure."

"It's pretty simple," Cadence smiles, a certain edge to the apparent sweetness. She doesn't look hurt, or betrayed, or even angry. She looks pretty damn calm. "It seems that the bridges have been burnt. We promise to leave you alone, and you promise to leave us alone."

My entire body pauses. _Does that mean...?_ But it's pretty much answered. Cadence, Evangeline and Kaitlin walk away, effectively splitting the Career alliance into two segments. I look at Douglas and Ares, completely blown away, but there's no-one to pick up the pieces.

We're now a three-man team.

* * *

**Avril Benton, District Twelve Female.**

* * *

"Now, that was amusing," I smirk, looking up at the trainer. She only seems to disapprove of it all. "Who would've thought that a pack of trained, teenager murderers would squabble?"

She doesn't respond. She slaps the visor over her face, making the action speak for her instead. Sometimes, Capitol twats have too high opinions of themselves. And whilst it would make my day to bug her even further, I know I have to be productive in the slightest. I can't waste another day away just watching everyone, amused by their ridiculous attempts to befriend one another.

I move on to the next station, making short work of the knots. The fire-making station doesn't light the spark inside of me like I thought it would. In the end, I feel lost, aimlessly trailing behind Cadence Halsey and her followers.

When the bell chimes for lunch, I'm the first in the queue, eagerly accepting as much as possible.

I sit in the furthest corner of the room, away from everyone else. Nicholas doesn't spare me a look. Too proud, apparently.

But Asha Mazuike, on the other hand, is an easier target. When she trails too close, I kick out the chair, hitting her knee. She looks at me with fiery eyes. A smirk curls on my lips. "Take a seat, would you? I'm awfully lonely."

Asha mumbles something under her breath, walking away.

It seems that, since her outburst, she's been forced to recite the numbers to calm her anger. That'll be interesting to watch in the bloodbath, especially if she collides with Levitt.

Lunch drags on. When we're about to leave, I purposely slide next to Zora Hudgens, winking down at the curly-haired toddler.

"You touched me," Zora deadpans, staring up at me. "Do you not understand that people need space?"

"You're a spirited one, aren't you?" I smile, tempted to pat her on the head.

"Bite me," Zora narrows her eyes, slamming the tray in the rack. As she tries to walk away, I catch up, coining the attention of her two allies. "I seem to have found a lost puppy," Zora remarks coldly.

"You have a twisted vocabulary for someone so innocent," I test the waters. It's unorthodox - and people might think of me as bullying her, which is definitely not the case - but it's an easier way to find out the true people beyond the mask, learning their weaknesses and strengths. "I can only assume that your crime, of course, involved your words?"

"Slander, but who cares?" Zora shrugs. "Do I even know you?"

"Avril," I smile. "You're about fourteen, right?"

"I'm starting to think that I need some pepper spray to make you leave," Zora mumbles, confused.

"Can we help you?" Arden Novelle steps forward. "As charming as it is to meet the other tributes, we aren't looking for another team member. We're full."

Arden takes control because, typically, she feels lost without it. Farryn Lore only plays to her stereotype. It's a shame, really. They're all rather mediocre.

"I was just being polite, taking an interest," I wave it away. "I'll see you ladies around."

Then, through the mass, I find the most interesting of them all. The only real criminal around here.

I move quickly to catch up with him, trailing the edges of the sword-fighting mat. Jayce Kenton's eyes are bright, but a certain darkness seems trapped behind. He seems to stare right through me. I make a point of lingering near him, never breaking his space. I toss my hair over my shoulder, bend over seductively to grasp a sword, even spreading my feet apart so he can stare straight through my legs. Eventually, he's interested enough to approach me, and the plan falls into motion.

"You're name is Avril, right?" Jayce smiles charmingly, saddling up behind me.

I giggle, turning to face him. "And you are Jayce. I was wondering how long it would take you to notice me," I lie, playing the part.

"I prefer Kenton. Oh, I definitely noticed you, though," Jayce winks, grazing his calloused fingers across my arm. "You wanted me to notice you, didn't you? Enjoyed putting on a show for me?"

"Depends on what you're after?" I tease him.

"For you to shut up and bend over," Jayce whispers, running his hand down the side of my body. I try my best not to flinch - his touch making my skin crawl - and embrace the lie.

"So, Kenton," I spin around, grasping his hand to move it away. "Why do you like to be called that?"

"I got it from jail," Jayce answers. "Jayce sounds too prissy. Kenton made a statement."

"Made you seem dangerous? A bad boy?" I wink.

"You know it," Jayce purrs. "What will it take for you to come into a dark corner with me?"

"A lot more persuading and attention," I answer, biting my lip. "I'll see you around."

"Wait, you're leaving?"

"I have to keep you interested, don't I? Teasing keeps them pleasing," I wink again, scurrying away before Jayce makes me vomit.

Despite the amount of showers he probably has had, he reeks of cigarettes and sex. I can smell every single girl that he has bedded. It's repulsive. But, it proved useful. Jayce can't resist a pretty, easy girl. He's insecure about his own name, meaning a lack of confidence under the surface.

I can dig deeper. It won't be too hard.

The more I know about my competition, the easier it will be to conquer them.

The Career girls walk by, Cadence and Evangeline gossiping whilst Kaitlin is at the end. My lips curve into a smile.

_It's time to go after the bigger fry_, I muse, watching them go.

* * *

**Enora Ardley, District Nine Female.**

* * *

"I wonder what you do with these?" I hold up the cherries, linked by their stem. "I mean, can we eat them? Why are there so many of them?"

"They aren't cherries," Keaton frowns. "At least, I don't think they are... I think they're some kind of wild fruit. Might even be a hybrid."

I pluck the red berries from their stem, popping one into my mouth. Keaton's face crumples with anxiety as he watches. I chew, swallow, and open wide, holding back a laugh. "Not that dangerous!" I beam.

Keaton steps around me, inspecting the booklet by them. _Oh, maybe I should've read it first_, I shake the feeling away, standing by his side.

"They are a hybrid," Keaton mumbles. "Says that they're found in lush forests, where canopies block out the sunlight."

"Oh! Oh, oh!" I grab him, shaking him with excitement. "You found a clue, Keaton! It's an arena clue!"

Keaton's face brightens. "You think? I mean... I don't know, it could be just there for a number of reasons..."

I slap him playfully. "Don't be modest! You're super smart, you knew it really!"

"Yeah, I guess I did," Keaton smiles proudly.

"We'll be at an advantage if it is a forest! You live in one, and I've been through one before!"

"I don't live in a forest," Keaton frowns. "Seven has woodlands more than anything. And we don't live in them. They are just kinda... there. Does Nine have forests then?"

"Oh. No, they don't," I smile, playing with the other not-cherries.

After a moment, Keaton hums. "Aren't you going to tell me how you know then?"

"Oh!" I laugh. "When I was younger, I sorta slipped into District Ten. It was nothing, really! The fence was being repaired or something and I don't know, I just ended up in the pretty woodlands at the back of my house, the ones that Mama told me belonged to District Ten, for their cattle or something."

"So, you..." Keaton pauses. "You trespassed?"

"Accidentally," I wave it away. "It was nothing, honestly! I got a slap on my wrist. I was only, like, five years old at the time. They wasn't going to whip a child for an accident!"

"Wow... that's a pretty serious offence, Enora," Keaton frowns.

"Let's not talk about it!" I laugh shakily, overwhelmed by the memories. I don't want to be honest about how frightening it was. "Honestly, I'm fine about it. It was an experience that I will cherish forever, but there's nothing really to add to it. It was a mistake. A silly mistake made by a child."

Politely, Keaton doesn't push it further. I don't like talking about it.

We fall into a rhythm, trailing through the survival stations, avoiding the weapons. I ask questions, Keaton answers them, and we move on. It's a fun experience overall, watching Keaton squirm when he tries to find an answer.

"What do you call this?" I playfully ask, showing him the red-headed stick.

"It's a match," Keaton answers smoothly.

"Well done!" I giggle, placing it back. The trainer offers up his supplies for fire, and Keaton greedily takes more than we need.

"You never know..." Keaton drops it all on the floor.

We go through the motions, trying out each one. When the pile of dried leaves come up, Keaton frowns.

"What?" I smile, staring at how cute his face turns when he's concentrating.

"Dried leaves won't start a fire," Keaton frowns.

"They will!"

"Really?"

"Yeah," I laugh, pushing the pile of autumn-coloured leaves into the middle. "Mama used to use them sometimes, instead of wasting wood or charcoal. It's a really cool thing to watch. Oh, watch this!" I strike the match and drop it into the pile. It takes a while, but slowly, the embers devour the dried leaves, crackling and popping as they shrivel up.

Keaton laughs awkwardly. "Who would've guessed that you'd know more about trees than someone who lives in them?"

"You live in a tree? Like a house? A treehouse?" I grin, fascinated. _I want one!_

"It... it was a joke," Keaton laughs awkwardly again. "Like, it was a play on what you said... you know, about the forest?"

I tilt my head. "What did I say?"

"...don't worry about it," Keaton smiles.

Once more, we fall into our comfortable routine. Keaton seems to enjoy helping me along with whatever I need. _He's such a nice guy... I'm lucky to have found him. Silas was right, you do need someone you can trust, and Keaton is just that! _I muse happily, but there's a constant little voice in my head, reminding me that I don't like being dependant on someone, not after last time.

Then, Silas walks by, lost in thought. Still alone.

"Maybe we should invite Silas to join us?" I ask, hopeful. I really, really don't want him to be all alone.

Keaton doesn't look as interested as I hope he would've. "I don't know, Enora..."

"If Astrid needed help, I would've said yes," I frown, slightly upset by it. I'm totally putting him on the spot. It's unfair of me. "Yeah, don't worry about it," I cut him up before he can say a word. "It's silly of me to put you on the spot. Just, keep it in thought, okay?"

"Sure," Keaton nods. "I can do that."

"Thank you," I smile.

"You are such a nice person, Enora," he mumbles. "You care about your district partner, don't you?"

"Don't you care about Astrid?"

"Not in the same way as you," Keaton laughs dryly.

"Honestly, I've not known Silas for that long, but he's been a massive help and comfort to me, beyond you, of course! I would love nothing more than to return the kindness that he's shown me!"

"I promise to think about it," he confirms, making me giddy with happiness.

I clap my hands. "Okay, well, let's get moving then!"

* * *

**Jayce Kenton, District Five Male.**

* * *

Taking the club in my hand, I approach the first dummy. I pull it back and slam it down, satisfied by the muted crunch as the head splits open. I repeat the process with the next four dummies, more careful and precise than the last.

Behind me, I see Avril Benton once more, teasingly staring at me.

"Can't get enough of me, can you?" I smirk, flexing my muscles. If nobody was watching, Avril would already be on her knees. She's the exact type of girl that drives me wild, the kind I need to conquer. And it's been a long, long time since I've had the pleasure of company.

But Avril is a tease. She doesn't bite. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she saunters away.

Frustrated, I slam the button. The ground peels open and swallows the crushed dummies, replacing them with new ones. I switch out the club for an axe, and make even shorter work, a trail of red feathers in my wake.

"I'm bored now," I comment, tossing the axe onto the rack as Levitt Tithe breezes by. He gives me a perplexed look, but it doesn't matter. He's already dead.

It doesn't take me long to find Avril again. I catch up to her, just at the front of the wrestling mat.

"I think we need to add some mud, or at least some water," I muse, watching the female instructor prepare herself.

"You're so naughty," Avril laughs. "I don't think even you can compete with you."

"I'm sure you'd try exceptionally hard," I purr in her ear, making her shiver.

"I want to wrestle," Avril laughs again.

"I'm down with that. I have no limitations," I wink, but Avril soon becomes serious, a tone of determination in her eyes. "Oh, you mean her? I'm cool with that too. Nothing new to me."

"Leave, Jayce," Avril smiles, but the word is like a knife. Jayce isn't around anymore. Jayce was a scared, wiry kid who wanted to be more than he was worth. Jayce is just another reminder to the skin I've already shed. "I promise to find you after."

"Yeah, okay," I mutter, walking away.

Jail didn't break me, it shaped me. It taught me to be hit hard, and hit even harder. It took a while, but choosing Kenton - choosing to leave behind my past - was the better decision. It took away the fear.

I busy myself with the boring stuff, ones that I seem to fail on. The electronic system only screams at every wrong answer I make, whilst the trainer at the camouflage station doesn't approve of my inappropriate designs. Sticking to my strengths, I simply batter a few more dummies with an assortment of weapons, perfecting almost everything.

"It's not all about strength."

"Oh?" I scoff, staring at the elderly man. His whiskers curl up to his eyes, giving off the impression of someone wise. Clearly a mistake. "Well, tell me how skills will help someone whack a club, or slice with a sword? I'm eager to hear the masterpiece."

The old man scoffs in return. "That'll be your downfall. It might take brute strength, but it requires a skilful mind to follow the repercussions."

"When your lips move, all I hear is the wind," I deadpan.

"That attitude will get you killed."

"That attitude will keep you working until retirement... which shouldn't be too far away," I snarl, shouldering past him before he can say anything else, attempting to crumble my confidence.

I don't move get very.

"I like what I see," I hear a voice that stops me in my tracks. I turn, Clarent Tarbeck seemingly looming over his own shadow. "You have the right attitude, and the right set of skills that I want."

It seems that everyone wants to talk to me today. Not that I blame them, anyway.

He doesn't intimidate me. I've had to live with more dangerous guys. "if that is your recruitment speech, then it needs to be altered."

"Enlighten me," Clarent smiles darkly.

"You don't want me, you need me," I push it further. _I knew that the Careers would come to me eventually, and I didn't even have to try all that hard to attract them_. "I've seen the other two. You might as well cut your own throat."

"It seems as if you've planned that answer for some time. Been interested in the Careers for that long?"

"Since I saw it blow up in your face," I test, unable to resist the way he seems to take that to heart. "Hey, don't sweat it. Girls are rarely good at anything. I'm sure they were just a bunch of teases, anyway."

Clarent smirks. "It seems you know what you're talking about. Does this mean that you'll consider?"

"You'll need to toughen the other two up first," I point out, seeing the pair in the distance, talking quietly. "I want a team behind me, not meat shields. I don't roll like that."

"So you're moderately sexist, but against using people for your own, selfish needs?"

"Basically," I smirk. "I'm a complex individual."

Clarent suddenly offers his hand. My mind flickers to Avril, to whether I should've allied with her and filthy mind, before I instantly shut her out. _Slut_, I think bitterly, taking his hand and sealing the deal.

"Hopefully you're worth the effort," Clarent remarks coolly.

"I've never had any complaints," I smirk, walking away.

Careers? Suppose that it suits me. It's a perfect fit, really. It'll be like jail all over again. Only this time, I'm not the snivelling, weak kid that's afraid of the dark. No, I'm the alpha male that dominates instead.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

* * *

**Daithi Sheahan, District Ten Male.**

* * *

Everyone has an ally. Well, nearly everyone. The only person who doesn't seems to be me.

Serena constantly mentioned about an ally or a team, and how evidently important they were. Seeing as she murdered both of her allies, she's hardly in the position to hand out that advice.

No, solitary might not be safe, but it's content. I don't have to worry about impressions or worrying whether they'll like me. I can focus solely on myself until I die which, no doubt, will happen. I won't kid myself. I'm pretty much dead. I've already accepted it, and it's not like the chances are high, anyway.

"Don't you want to venture out?"

"Not particularly," I answer the trainer, fumbling with the piece of cotton in my hand.

"You need more practice in other places," the trainer continues. "Knowing how to stitch a wound won't matter, not when there's a knife sticking out of your chest."

"I know," I faintly smile. I haven't properly smiled in a while. There's not much to be cheerful about back in District Ten.

The trainer hums. I can't see his face, but I know he's tired of me. People usually are. Erin, for example. _Does she miss me yet? Or, is she finally happy to not receive my attention? _I can't help but wonder.

After a while, I take the hint, abandoning the station. I meander around the curve of the room, avoiding the other tributes. They happily talk together, pairing up and branching out. Even Zora has found someone, and she's pretty impossible to like. A few tributes are on their own, but they won't be for long. People tend to look for support in dire situations.

In the end, I've done a loop, staring back at the same station.

"I couldn't find anything that I needed," I mutter, grasping the cotton and needle once more. I don't bother to look up, unsuspecting of someone that has invaded my spot.

Valera Saffel doesn't say a word. She stares at me with disgust - similar to the other kids, once the cruel rumors had reached the outskirts of the farmland - before going back to her work. However, something inside of me tells me to speak to her, or at least ease the apparent uncomfortable air.

"The cotton bud should be squeezed first," I mutter, attempting to make eye contact with her. She doesn't react whatsoever. "...if you squeeze it, you'll increase the density, and it should let the needle slide more fluidly..."

Valera finally looks up at me briefly, before going back to her work. "Thanks," she mumbles.

The rush of happiness floods through me. "I have loads of tips for sewing," I admit. "I... I used to sew up some cotton and wool, sending it to District Eight," I smile bright, hoping to draw her into a conversation. I didn't realise how lonely I was.

"I didn't have much to do with clothes," Valera replies quietly.

"My area used to send a bulk of wool," I continue, focusing entirely on Valera.

"That's nice," Valera smiles faintly.

"I could show you more tips, if you'd like? I mean, if that isn't an issue? I know we've only just met and we should technically be enemies, but it feels human to actually help someone, you know?"

Valera's faint smile completely disappears. "I don't want to be rude, but we are enemies. Don't share your knowledge with just anyone, kid."

All of my hope flounders. Valera walks away, and the world suddenly slaps me in the face once more. _I don't need an ally or someone to talk to_, I think bitterly, placing the items back on the station. _I'd only have to worry about her stabbing me in the back, which she would do. She seems like the type to betray someone. _

I retreat back to the safety and silence of solitude.

"Back again?" The trainer seems shocked. "Kid, you won't survive two minutes if you don't learn something else."

"I won't survive two minutes anyway," I mutter, curling into myself.

"Don't be so hard on yourself."

_Everyone else normally is_, I retaliate in my head. _I'm the only person I can trust, and I can't trust myself. How does that work out?_

The trainer hums. "At least let me show you some different techniques? If you want to impress those Gamemakers, you need to do more then that."

Reluctantly, I concede. The trainer shows me more techniques, polishing what I already know. He doesn't speak, nor ask questions, he simply shows and allows me to follow. It's a method that helps me forget about my problems, how everyone and everything is against me, or how I'm going to die in less than a week.

Or, not really.

I doubt anything will let me truly forget.

"Have you thought about an ally, kid?"

"No," I lie. "I want to be alone. Completely alone. It's a lot easier for everyone that way."

* * *

**Nicholas Carson, District Twelve Male.**

* * *

Once more, the bell chimes for the day. I place the hatchet back down onto the pedestal, stepping back and admiring the intricate cuts in the dummy. It's taken me all day to actually perfect that. I doubt it'll be useful, but it wastes time.

"Have you finally learned how to master torture then?" Avril's voice chuckles.

"It's useful," I defend, turning to her. "It's the quickest way to drain blood."

"Of a tribute? How macabre," Avril quirks an eyebrow. "At least, I can only presume, unless you're into the weird stuff?"

"Shut up," I look away. Avril just doesn't care. I don't either, but there's boundaries that you don't cross with a total stranger. She makes everything into a joke, when sometimes, you need to be serious.

After a moment of awkward silence, Avril giggles. "Did you see that big bust-up with the Careers?"

"Hard to miss," I smile wryly. It was uncomfortable. The heated words, the tension that spilled out into the room. Everyone saw it. Everyone will take advantage of that now, including me.

"They've split. I can tell. The girls are all together and so are the guys. I think it's a sexual war, too much tension and not enough release."

"Disgusting," I scowl. "Don't you ever know when enough is enough?"

"You seem offended?"

"I'm disgusted," I start to walk away, but Avril only catches up. There's a curious, deep look in her eyes, as if she's trying to search for an answer. "What?" I grumble, jabbing the elevator button.

Avril takes a while to respond. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I can just tell, you know?"

"No, I don't know," I shake my head, sliding into the elevator. Avril practically charges in like a reckless animal.

"It's nothing," Avril smiles. "Anyway, I was thinking about joining them. The girls, I mean, not the guys, because you don't want to see the thoughts running through my mind."

"Not to sound cruel, Avril, but I doubt that trained killers are looking for a lowly girl from District Twelve to join them. You hardly seem like the Career archetype. You might look all menacing and moody, but they won't let you in on that alone." I point out.

"Yeah, because I'm not extremely prissy, a midget, or rip my hair out with overgrown nails. None of them fit that bill either," Avril remarks coolly, eyes flashing dark. "It doesn't matter, anyway. I'm not going to them. I have pride, you know."

I raise my eyebrow. "Really?"

"I almost fooled myself then!" Avril barks, laughing obnoxiously loud. "Yeah, I might ask them tomorrow. Test the waters with the weird one first. I have practice with you, don't I? And once you've befriended the weird one, you have a psychopath for life, or something like that."

"Hilarious," I smile dryly, as the elevator doors open. I sulk out, ignoring how Crispin is cooped up in the corner, Saskia by his bedside. The mechanical beep of his monitor only dims the mood.

"You alright, old man?" Avril asks, slumping onto the couch.

I linger by the door, torn between leaving or actually wondering how Crispin is doing. He's a nice guy, but I don't want to have to carry the added weight of worrying about his decreasing health, or whether he can actually help me in this state.

"He's been better..." Saskia mumbles, hand held tight in Crispin's.

"You can't die yet," Avril smiles. "We both need you. Saskia can't manage on her own. Look at her, she's like a little mouse all the damn time. You have to fight it."

Crispin smiles. "You have a way with words, Avril."

"And you have a way with making me feel guilty for not trying hard enough," Avril stands. "Do you want food or anything? I could eat a horse."

"He can't swallow. Medication and that," Saskia frowns.

"Nicholas?"

"What?"

"Did you want something to eat?" Avril asks. "You're a Seam kid like me. I doubt you can resist the amount of glorious food they have. Oh, sweets!"

"An apple," I smile, amused.

"Woman," Avril groans, tossing it to me. I take a bite, watching her rip open some sweets. "You should try the male Careers, you know. They could use more players."

It's a completely uncomfortable idea. The Careers? They'd eat me alive. I would never feel comfortable nor safe. I'd be on constant alert, waiting for one of them to stab me in the back. No, alone is a lot safer. I only have to worry about myself, and not about the dangers that pretend to be allies.

"Maybe," I shrug. "We'll see. I have my plans."

"Sneaky chap," Avril smirks. "Not going to share?"

"We're not allies. It's unwise," I point out, popping the apple into the bin. "I should really hit the hay."

"You're only saying that to avoid me," Avril smirks. "But, go ahead. I don't care. See you in the morning, if you wake up early enough to actually come down with me."

"You... you were the one who slept late," I frown.

"Yeah, I know," Avril smiles blissfully. "Alright, go get some beauty sleep. You need it!"

Confused, I leave her alone, abandoning the beeping noise that makes my head spin. He escaped years ago, but now the guillotine has fallen. Even if I win, will I get to walk away? Or will I have to pay the price down the line?

None of it matters now.

I have to survive the Hunger Games first, and it's easier said than done when you count out the actual odds of surviving.

Things just seem too daunting to be real.

* * *

**The blog for this story is_ onlyhuman hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

* * *

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

**_Thoughts on these eight tributes?_**

**_Favourite POV?_**

**_Favourite tribute overall?_**

* * *

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

**And there is our last bunch! Inari, Zora, Clarent, Avril, Enora, Jayce, Daithi and Nicholas.**

**We're halfway through the Capitol already. Yay! Next up is Training Day Three, where are last set of alliances will (possibly) be made. It all depends. I've tweaked things last minute.**

**As always, I'll keep a small list at the bottom here for confirmed alliances, ones that won't be edited (they can only grow): VectusxInari, KeatonxEnora, SorenxAstrid, FarrynxArdenxZora, ClarentxAresxDouglasxJayce. The rest are considered loners or unconfirmed.**

**Lastly, there's a poll on my profile! I've loved for you to vote! (it's just for fun, it doesn't change anything).**


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